Imperfection
by This Broken Heart
Summary: Sometimes Perfection Can Become The Perfect Hell. The line between reality and insanity blurs for Lulu Spencer. How many hits can a girl hit before she breaks? Alternate Ending Added.
1. Don't Want To Be Just Anybody

1My mother told me not to expect perfection from anyone. She was referencing to herself and my father, but the words struck me on a whole different level. I've been struggling to be ever so perfect for her, walking on egg shells to make sure nothing breaks her ever again. I don't want anything to shock her back into the catatonic state that she's been in for the past four years. But I also don't want her to see how absolutely imperfect I truly am. I lied to break up a marriage because I was in love with a boy. A boy who was in love with his wife. My scheming worked. He believed every venomous lie I told him and left her. And I slept with him. I lost my virginity to a boy in love with someone else. And I knew the whole time that he was only with me because of the lie I'd told. I confessed to him, if anyone cares anymore. He didn't believe me. Doesn't that mean something? I guess not. He knows the truth now. He overheard me talking to his mother about it and he left me. He took her back, promising to make their relationship work somehow.

And then we all found out that I was pregnant. His family, his mother in particular, manufactured faulty condoms. I had learned my lesson. I had finally accepted that Dillon could never love me. I'm no where near ready to be a mother, to be responsible for another human life. I'm having a hard enough time managing my own. So I decided that I was going to have an abortion. Dillon fought me on it. He begged me to give him the baby, to let him raise our child on his own. But he was just as ready as I was to raise a kid. He has dreams to be a director, to do something big with his life. I would not let my lie be responsible for destroying anything else in his life. He finally resigned to the fact that I was going to have the abortion, that our baby would never be born. I expected to be relieved after the procedure. But I only felt tired and empty. I slept well that night, but the emptiness was still there when I finally dragged myself awake.

I still feel empty. And alone. I have two wonderful brothers, but they're each dealing with problems of their own. My sister in-law is pregnant and struggling to raise her son. My mom, at the time, was still lost inside her own head. My dad had been everywhere but here. Now, yeah, my mother's back. But I can't go to her, can't confide in her. I can't let her know what a screw up I've become in her absence. I refuse to be the reason we lose her again. So I stay where I am now. I remain locked away in my overdone room at the Quartermaine Mansion. I don't know what we're going to do when my mom's released from the facility she's been in. She'll want to go home, to have her family surrounding her. But my dad will figure it out. He always does. I jump, stunned out of my thoughts by a soft knock on the white door. My eyes flicker from the door to the picture of my mother that I hold in my hands. I don't want to face Tracy, Dillon's mother and my father's temporary wife. The rest of the Quartermaine family don't really pay any attention to me, especially now that I no longer carry the Quartermaine heir that Edward, Dillon's grandfather, wants so desperately.

Jason, Dillon's cousin, abandoned the family ten years ago. AJ, Jason's brother, was the bad seed of the family from what I've heard. He went out with a bang though. He was murdered in the hospital where he was recovering from a broken back. His final triumph was kidnaping his biological son, Michael Corinthos, and making everyone think the kid was dead. I smile at the thought of my cousin's little red-headed son. Carly, my cousin, was deeply embedded in the Quartermaine family. Kind of like I've become. Emily, Dillon's cousin by adoption, had no children and had yet to actually disappoint anyone. It seems like she might re-marry my eldest brother, Nikolas, and then she'll have a step-son, Spencer. Ned, Dillon's brother, is the only one to give Edward a great-grandchild. Brooke, a girl around my age, left town not to long ago. She wasn't really digging the Quartermaine riches. And then there's my baby. The heir that'll never be. I clear my throat, brushing away the traitorous tears away with the back of my hand. The door opens despite my lack of encouragement.

"You didn't answer. I called your name at least five times and I knew you were in here so I decided to make sure you're okay. You downed quite a bit of alcohol last night," Dillon smiles wearily at me, holding out a cup of steaming coffee. I accept it, smiling weakly as I inhale the rich scent. Dillon sits on my bed, a decent distance from the window seat I'm resting on. He looks down at his clasped hands before glancing up at me again. "You've been drinking a lot the past few nights,"

"I'm just having fun, Dillon. College kids drink," I reply half-heartedly. My brother, Lucky, is in rehab for a drug addiction. I don't want to even think about letting myself get addicted to anything like he did, wrecking my life the way he tried to. I had never touched any serious liquor before the PCU Halloween party. I sip the black liquid silently for a minute before meeting his gaze. Worry flickers across his features. A cruel comment dies on my tongue. I shrug nonchalantly. "Don't worry about me,"

"Don't worry? You did something wrong, Lulu. You've paid a thousand times over for your mistakes," Dillon assures me bitterly as he stares down at his hands again. He smiles sardonically. I bite my lip to keep from admitting that I feel like I haven't paid for anything, that I just continue to make him pay for it all. I'm the one who had destroyed his marriage. I'm the one who had an abortion despite his protests. Guilt floods me. I smile mirthlessly despite myself. I only ever feel empty or guilty. I'm growing used to the half-life I've been living. I force my attention back to Dillon. "I was angry, you know, when I found out that you had lied. I could barely look at you. My best friend, someone I trusted inexplicably, had obliterated my marriage for her own selfish reasons. But, despite my anger and the fact that I no longer trusted you, I never fully crossed you off,"

"Now, Dillon, lets not forget the fact that I had an abortion. Even after you begged me to let you raise the baby on your own," I remind him, nothing but self-deprecation in my tone. The sunlight filters through the glass and warms my skin. I turn to look out the window, watching the sun reflect off the blue water of the Quartermaine lake. The lake house looms in the distance, mocking me with it's memories. I momentarily consider going to Monica and asking her if I may move into a room on the opposite side of the house. But that's where Dillon's room is and I don't want to be any closer to him than I have to be. I hear him make a sound, just a noise to acknowledge the irony of it all.

"I will _never_ forget that you were pregnant with my baby or that you had an abortion. It wasn't a mass of cells, Lulu. It was a _baby_. He or she was part you and part me. That's not something to be forgotten," Dillon's voice is hollow and I struggle to see his eyes. He turns his face to the wall, as if deliberately hiding his emotions from me. I remind myself that his concern means nothing. He has no ties to me anymore. I've made sure of that. He speaks again, drawing my attention back to the present once again. "You had the abortion because you couldn't raise the baby the way it would've deserved,"

"I could have let you have the kid. You have the Quartermaine riches to back you," I snap, recalling the argument he had so powerfully presented to me time after time. I feel my body tense with the anticipation of a battle. Dillon had stopped fighting me prior to the abortion and hadn't seemed to blame me afterwards. But I had always known that he was still angry about my decision. I get to my feet, gripping the oak desk for balance. I hand him the white mug that was still half-full with the coffee he had brought me. "Thanks for the concern, Spielberg, but I'm fine rolling on my own,"

"Lu Lu..." His words are cut off as I walk into my bathroom and shut the door behind him. I can hear him get up and I listen carefully until he leaves my bedroom a few minutes later. I sigh with relief, glad to have avoided another ten rounds about all the mistakes I've made. I run a brush through my long, blonde hair. I look like my mother. Everyone has always said so. I also resemble my cousin Carly in the smallest ways. I choke back a sob. My mother and Carly are two of the most important people in my life and I know that I'm a lot like both of them in so many ways. But there's one thing about me that I want to be different. I watch a tear slip down my flushed cheek. I don't want to break, not like they did. My hands shake and the brush falls from my grip into the sink. I check the clock on my cell phone, knowing that Tracy and Edward have left for the office. Monica and Alan have been at the hospital for hours already, I'm sure. I calculate that I have time for a shower before Dillon leaves for his Intro to Business class. Then the coast will be clear, for the most part anyway. I can avoid the staff long enough to take the crystal decanter of vodka from the mini-bar in the den. I shed my clothes and turn the water until steam billows out of the stall in white clouds around me. I step under the scalding spray and let it beat against my flesh mercilessly.

I dress slowly and tug my wet hair back into a ponytail. I listen at my door for any signs of anyone. I only hear silence and creep out the door. I look over the railing and head down the stairs when I find no one in sight. The den is just as empty and I sneak in silently. I grab the vodka and stick it in the pocket of my old terry robe. I make my way up to my room as quickly and quietly as possible. I grab a coke out of the mini-fridge in the far left corner of the room and pour half the can into a glass I had on my bedside table. I fill the other half of the glass with the vodka I had grabbed. I stir the mixture with my index finger before wiping it on my jeans. I take a sip, coughing as the alcohol burns my throat. I see Dillon out of the corner of my eye. "Go to hell,"

"Put it down, Lulu. Your drama-queen statement is getting you no where," He warns quietly. I scoff and raise the glass to my lips again. I take a large swallow, smirking at him as I force myself not to grimace. I see annoyance flicker in Dillon's eyes. I lift my chin, determined to be defiant as always. I finish off the glass and turn to fix myself another one. I jerk upright when his fingers wrap around my wrist. I straighten my spine and freeze.

"Seriously, Dillon, let go of me right now. I really don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have, but, so help me God, I will if you don't let me go," I warn, my voice low and menacing. I'm

through playing games and he seems to sense that. His grip loosens and I manage to pull free. I finish mixing my drink, raising it towards him in a silent, mockery of a toast. I down half the glass and smile, satisfied with my act of utter rebelliousness. "Why aren't you in class?"

"I was running late when I saw you sneak out of the den with the vodka," He mutters, glancing impatiently at his watch. I finish my drink and silently make another. Dillon eyes me with pure exasperation. I shrug with a small smile and take a swallow of the concoction. We both know he can't stop me. At least not at the moment. A knowing look gleams in his eyes. "I'll have to mention you're breakfast choice to Grandfather,"

"Whatever you say, Spielberg," I retort nonchalantly. Edward would throw a fit if he knew I was drinking his precious booze. Dillon and I both know this. He was playing the rich kid card. I smile innocently and bat my eyes, taking another swallow of my drink. "Who would blame a confused teenager with absolutely no guidance for taking a wrong turn after going through such traumatic events? I mean, come on, I had a freaking abortion,"

"Do you really want to play on their pity just so that you can drink?" Dillon asks, eyeing me suspiciously. I turn my back to him, finishing off my third consistent drink. I go to make yet another when Dillon's grabs my shoulder, spinning me to face him. His eyes burn with rage. I sense his concern below the surface and am actually thankful to get his anger. The liquor has made me itching for a fight. "No one made you lie or forced you to have that procedure,"

"Procedure... Abortion... Such pretty words, aren't they?" I ask, pulling free and twirling around him with a wicked smile. I stumble and Dillon reaches out to steady me. I step away from his hands and my smile fades away. "Admit it, Dillon, you hate me. I _killed_ your precious baby. You don't think I regret it? I wish there had been another way. But I couldn't have raised that kid on my own and there's no way in hell I was going to let you marry me when you're in love with Georgie. I learned my lesson the first time around, thank you very much. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to fix another drink in peace,"

"You're doing one hell of a job honoring our kid," Dillon quips as he makes himself comfortable on my bed. I shoot him a dirty look over my shoulder as I take a deep swallow of my drink. The alcohol doesn't burn as much now as my body becomes numb under it's effects. I smile affectionately at him as I turn around. "First you try to drop out of school and now you're becoming an alcoholic,"

"I'm not an alcoholic. They go to meetings and work the '12 steps'. I'm just your typical college girl," I take a sip of my drink before setting it on my dresser. I crawl onto the foot of my bed and reach out to ruffle Dillon's carefully slicked back hair. I take the glasses he wears, but doesn't need, and set them aside. I eye the sweater vest with disgust. I get up and search through my dresser, throwing things over my shoulder as I look for one particular item. I squeal in triumph as my fingers wrap around his Jim Morrison t-shirt. I had stolen it one night when we were down in the boat house. I toss it to him, taking another sip of my drink. He eyes the shirt suspiciously. I make a sound of annoyance in the back of my throat. He rolls his eyes, pulling off the sweater vest and tossing it aside. He pulls the t-shirt over his head and I smile with delight, crawling back onto the bed. "That's so much better,"

"You're drunk, Lulu," He mutters with disapproval. I cock my head to the side and shrug. I let my feet dangle off the end of my bed as my eyes scan the room. I bite my lip as I search out my drink. I reach out, finding that I can't reach across the room. I hear Dillon stifle a laugh and resist the urge to glare at him. I have bigger problems... You know, like getting my drink. I consider asking Dillon to get it for me, but he cuts me off before I can even make my lips form the words. "No chance in hell,"

"Jerk," I mumble as I get to my feet. I decided halfway there that I no longer what the original mixture. I stop and grab the decanter, tipping my head back and letting the vodka flow into my mouth. I close my eyes and force myself to swallow before heading back to my bed. I flash Dillon a look of annoyance. "See? I didn't need you anyway,"

"You never have, right? You wanted me, sure, but you never needed me. You're a Spencer, aren't you Lulu? You don't need anyone," His words drip with venom. He's angry that I'm strong enough to stand on my own? The thought puzzles me as I take another sip of the clear alcohol. I feel like telling to keep his sentences short, sweet, and to the point while I'm incapacitated. But I find I no longer care. Liquor can do that to a girl. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. He's already babbling about something else. "You know what? I think that's why you had the abortion. You have never needed anyone, never depended on someone else. If you had gone through with the pregnancy, if you had the baby, you would've needed me. We both know you couldn't have managed raising our kid on your own. I would've been around and you would've needed my help. And you just can't stand the thought of letting anyone in,"

"Thank you for the analysis, Dr. Phil," I grumble quietly under my breath. My thoughts are too fuzzy to form a decent retort so I just focus my attention on darkening my world with alcohol. Silence envelopes us and I glance over my shoulder to find Dillon watching me. I find no trace of anger or bitterness in his features. I sigh, setting the vodka on the floor at the foot of my bed. I crawl up and sit next to him, laying my head against his shoulder. "You're so wrong, Dillon. I've needed you since the day of the train wreck. Remember? My brothers were stuck in the tunnels and I could barely form a coherent thought. You kept me cool and rational. Okay, maybe not rational. But you did keep me from killing Georgie,"

"It was nothing," He glances down at me. The only reason I notice is because I had tilted my head back to stare up at him. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair once more, perfecting the messy spikes I loved.

"You helped me settle in here when I wanted to run at every turn. You got me to give my dad a chance and then you comforted me every time he took off when I needed him to be here. Dillon, you flew to the jungle and helped save my dad's life. I've needed you since the day I met you," I yawn and I feel him wrap his arm around me. I remind myself that I'm drunk and he'll go back to Georgie as soon as I close my eyes. I'm the screw up. I resist the urge to leave his embrace and find the vodka again. "I hate you for making me need you, making me miss you. I really hate you, Dillon,"


	2. I Won't Burn Out, I'll Burn Up

1When in the hell did the sun get so freaking bright? I squeeze my eyes shut, burying my face into my pillow. All I can hear over the ringing in my ears is the heartbeat in my head.. I groan, pressing a hand to my churning stomach. I carefully peak around my pillow, shutting my eyes quickly as the light makes them burn and the nausea intensify. I hear the door open and close softly and then hear the curtains being pulled shut. I risk another glance at the room. Dillon smirks at me from his place by the shaded window. He holds out another mug and I glance at it in disgust. "I ran into Robin at Kelly's earlier. She said hot chocolate can help a hangover. Drink up,"

"You told Robin?" My gaze snaps up to meet his. I contemplate hitting him, but my stomach and head protest any sudden movement. I sip the sweet liquid he handed me. I telepathically try to strangle him, but nothing happens. I grimace as he bumps the chair by my desk. He sits on the bed next to me and I eye him suspiciously. I set the snowman mug aside, burying my head in my hands. I pray to God that I didn't attempt a seduction earlier this morning. He gestures to the mug and I shrug. I silently pray that he'll leave and let me wallow in my own misery, but he just stares at the mug for a few long moments. "I'm sure I'll be Robin's good deed for the day now that she knows I have _'such a horrible problem'_. You can go now,"

"Patrick got her to shrug it off. He apparently thinks it's typical for a college girl under so much stress to turn to alcohol. He convinced Robin that you're okay until you do something stupid," Dillon laughs ruefully, obviously displeased with the outcome of the conversation. I heave a quiet sigh of relief. I have no intention of dealing with anyone who only wanted to discuss some random issue I had developed in their minds. I'm completely fine, I assure myself silently. "You're not okay, Lulu,"

"Of course I am, Spielberg. I'm getting through my classes and I have my mom back. How could I _not_ be okay?" I ask, forcing a smile. I reach for my purse that sits on the floor. I had dropped it there the night before, I'm sure. I dig through it, finding the Tylenol that rests on the bottom. I pop the top off and dump four of the white pills into my hand. I put them in my mouth, swallowing them with a sip of the hot chocolate he had brought. The brown liquid has gone cold while it had sat forgotten to my right. Dillon raises a skeptical eyebrow and I roll my eyes, crawling up the bed to my feathery pillows. I inhale the vanilla scent that lingered there. I had spilled some of my body spray a few weeks ago and the smell refused to vanish completely. I sense the spiel about to erupt from Dillon's mouth and raise a hand to stop the flow before it starts. "It was a couple of drinks, Dillon. Don't make it into a federal case,"

"And what about the professor?" Dillon's voice holds a hint of something I can't distinguish in my present state of mind. I can clearly pick out the disgust in his tone though and shrug as I reach to pull the covers up over my head. Dillon grabs the blanket, holding it in his fist as he prevents my escape. "You're going to get in over your head, Lulu. He knows you're still dealing with a lot. He's using that to wrap you around his finger and you can't even see it, can you? I'm just–..."

"Dillon? Oh, Lulu..." Georgie steps into the room, not bothering to knock. I scoff and use Dillon's surprise to my advantage. I pull the blanket free from his grasp and tug it over my head. I hear Dillon's sigh of resignation, but he doesn't seem to move from his spot at the foot of my bed. "Is she still suffering from a hangover from last night? Oh, wait, you're kidding me. She got drunk _this morning_ and you're here protecting her from the monster under the bed. Dillon, I've already warned you about this. You cannot save Lulu from Lulu,"

"Get a freaking grip," I mutter, pulling the blanket back so I can glare at the disputing couple. All I want is some peace and quiet so I can sleep off this headache. Can't they take their bickering else where? And, for the love of God, they need to leave me out of it all. "I don't need saving from anyone. Least of all from myself. You two can go find a new project. Adopt a puppy, clean a highway. Just get out of my room,"

"Come on, Dillon," Georgie urges quietly, gesturing to the door that she left ajar. Dillon sighs again and gently touches my foot for a second. I resist the urge to kick his hand away. Georgie turns and walks into the hallway, but Dillon hangs back for a second. He pulls the blanket up to my chin and grabs the mug of hot chocolate.

"You can hate me all you want," Dillon whispers as he follows his girlfriend, closing the door silently behind him. I remain frozen, staring at the white door. I throw my arm over my eyes and groan. What in the hell did I say to him this morning while I was ever so elegantly intoxicated? His concern should be touching, encouraging even. But it only makes me angry. I don't want his sympathy or his pity. I don't want him watching over me, analyzing my every move. I'm a big girl. I learned early on how to take care of myself. Grandma Lesley did her best in my parent's absence. My brothers stuck around, but always seemed to be dealing with a crisis of their own. My mother couldn't help that she had shattered under pressure. Who knows... I might do the same. My father had done the only thing he knew how to do. He bolted in the opposite direction.

I got over being angry at my dad a long time ago. He didn't know how to explain anything to me. He blamed himself, felt like he had pushed my mom too far. His guilt had eaten away at him. There had been no room in the equation for me. So he did what he thought was best. I get it now. I'm strong. I'm a Spencer. The most empowering and frightening thing. Carly is a Spencer. And she splintered under the blows. My mom is a Spencer. And she broke into millions of pieces that took four years to put back together. I'm terrified that I'll end up staring at a wall somewhere, whether there's hope for me to recover or not. But I'm a full-blooded Spencer. I'm different then them. I'll _make_ myself different then them.

"I won't break," I promise myself as I sit up, catching my disheveled reflection in the mirror. I finger the ends of my hair, contemplating if I want to cut it or not. I had nearly done it the morning after the abortion, but Dillon had shown up. And then I hadn't thought about it again until now. The scissors are still sitting on the dresser below the mirror. The silver blades glint under a ray of light that found it's way around the tightly drawn curtain. My fingers itch to wrap themselves around the handle, but I force myself to lay back down. My head pounds in protest to all the movement. I groan as someone knocks on my door. I'm really not in the mood to deal with anyone. Dillon was draining enough in my present state. I wait a few minutes and the knocking stops. I sigh and let my eyes flutter shut. The knocking resumes. "I'm not feeling well. Can you come back later?"

"Nice excuse, Lulu. You need to eat something," Dillon reminds me, his voice muffled through the door. I roll my eyes, turning on my side so that my back is to the door. Hopefully he'll get the hint and go away. I figure that Georgie is either downstairs or at his side. I know she's fuming either way. Well, serves her right. Save me from myself. No wonder Dillon's been acting like an overprotective lunatic. The idea of me actually harming myself is laughable. "Open the door,"

"Make me," I mutter as I pull the covers tighter around my small body. Dillon pushes the door open uninvited and I glance over to see him bend and retrieve a tray. The smell of the food makes my stomach churn all over again. I wait for Georgie to poke her head in, but she doesn't. I sit up and sigh, resigning to the fact that he won't leave me alone if I don't comply. "I'm up. Put the tray down and go check on your girlfriend. She didn't look very happy a few minutes ago,"

"Georgie isn't the one I'm worried about," Dillon assures me as he sets the tray across my lap. I scowl and stare down at the food in disgust. There's no way I'll be able to make myself eat the spaghetti or garlic bread that he's set before me. I take the small plate of salad and gesture for him to take the rest of it away. He sighs with obvious annoyance at my lack of interest. I smile to myself at the victory. I love to annoy him. It makes what has happened between us easier to deal with. "You need to eat more than _that_. Do you want me to pick something up from Kelly's on my way back from taking Georgie home tonight?"

"I won't be here," I inform him before I can stop myself. He gives me a look of frustration. I feel anger rise in my veins, boiling my blood. I'm not some foolish and naive child. He has no say in what I do with my life. I grew up just fine without a parent hovering over me. I don't need Dillon to fill the empty spot. "I'm not your responsibility, Dillon. And I'm not a kid,"

"You're acting like one," He replies harshly as he gets to his feet. He picks up the tray and eyes me silently for another moment. I continue pushing the salad around the plate, not bothering to make myself eat any of it. I wait till the door clicks shut before I toss the entire plate into the trash can. I glance at the pretty piece of china in sympathy. Oh well. It's not like the Quartermaine family can't afford to replace one lousy plate. I get out of bed and find fresh clothes, taking my time to fix my hair and makeup. I open my door fifteen minutes later to find Patrick Drake leaning against the wall beside my doorway. I glance at him and decide to ignore his presence. He put his arm in front of me against my chest and stops me in my tracks. I tilt my head to glare at him. He leads me back into my room, looking around to make sure we were undetected. I open my mouth to make a snappy comment about a tryst when he cuts me off.

"You're very lucky that I convinced Robin to let me handle this," Patrick smiles reassuringly and I throw myself face first onto my bed, preparing for a lecture. I hear him laugh and roll over to stare up at him incredulously. He sits down backwards on the chair at my desk. He leans it forward on two legs and grins proudly. "Dillon's very concerned. Robin was ready to come over here and just beat some sense into you. I, on the other hand, think a situation like this requires a bit more finesse,"

"There is no situation," I assure him as my irritation grows to unbearable levels. I glance around, looking for the vodka I had misplaced this morning. The room seems to be closing in on me, which is typical at this time of the evening. That's why I've been going out so much recently. I can't breathe in this freaking mansion anymore. My fingers tighten around the strap of my white purse. I eye the door, wondering if I could make a break for it. Patrick has me carefully trapped. I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest. "Assure Robin, and Dillon for that matter, that I'm absolutely fine. Now, if you don't mind, I have plans,"

"You're not going anywhere," Patrick promises softly, a dark look taking over his eyes. I sigh, waiting for the heartbreaking story I'm sure he'll tell. Just a tactic to get me to stay in, to make my life into what society deems appropriate. I inwardly groan as he opens his mouth to tell me whatever tragedy he has in mind. "My mom died when I was in college. God, I wasn't that much older than you. My dad was the surgeon operating on her when she bled out,"

"That must've been rough," I sympathize. I know what it's like not to have a mother around. But, regardless of how much I can relate, his story isn't stopping me from going out. He clears his throat and I realize he isn't done with whatever he's trying to tell me. I close my eyes briefly and silently pray for patience.

"My dad lost himself in alcohol after losing my mother. I could have him talk to you. Maybe if he can explain first hand what the liquor cost him..." Patrick trails off. He's obviously unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. I roll my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Dr. Drake, I don't have a drinking problem. Georgie Jones, Dillon's girlfriend, has been feeding him worst-case scenarios of how I'm dealing with the abortion that I had recently. Yes, I've had a few drinks at some parties on campus. But I'm not overdoing it. I know my limit," I assure the young doctor. His concern seems genuine enough and I remind myself not to be rude. This is Dillon's doing, not Patrick's. I, yet again, wish for telekinetic powers to choke the life out of Dillon. I force a smile, hoping to reassure the man before me. "I'm perfectly fine, as you can obviously see. The baby I had been carrying was Dillon's. It was a rough situation for not only myself and Dillon, but for Georgie as well. The abortion had some emotional repercussions that no one fully expected. We're just dealing with it in different ways. Georgie thinks I'm going off the deep end and tells Dillon so. Dillon worries a lot and Georgie is just giving him more to freak out about. I'm trying to move on with my life. Nothing more. You can convey that to Robin and to Dillon,"

"You do seem pretty balanced," Patrick concedes quietly as he studies me with serious eyes. I smirk to myself. _Balanced_. I nearly snort at the word. But I remember that Patrick is only here as a favor to Robin and Dillon. He's only trying to help. No matter that help is unwarranted in this situation, or lack thereof. Patrick gets to his feet, pushing the chair back to it's rightful place. He shakes my hand as I playfully roll my eyes at the gesture. I stand and give him a quick, friendly hug. "You're a good kid, Spencer. Keep it that way,"

"Bye Patrick," I close my bedroom door behind him. I wait a few seconds, until I'm sure he's left the mansion, before sticking my head out into the hallway. I look around, knowing Dillon's nearby. As if on cue, he pokes his head out of the guest room that's one door down from my bedroom. I glare angrily at him, stepping aside to let him enter my white and overly feminine room. "Do you realize how dead you are? If I had telekinetic abilities I would've strangled you. No, I would've made you burst into flames. Much more painful,"

"You wouldn't hurt me," Dillon assures me knowingly. I pick up my purse, making sure to smack his chest with it as I toss it over my shoulder. He raises an eyebrow at me and I resist the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him. My stomach churns and tears prick my eyes. I need to get out of here. I can't be around him. Not when he's looking at me with that incredulous look of sympathy. I push past him, intent on getting the hell out of dodge, when his long fingers wrap around my tiny wrist. I freeze and look down to where he holds me in his grasp before I look up to meet his eyes. "Don't do this, Lulu. No one, including you, wants to watch you go down in a beautiful flame-out,"

"You have no right to tell me what I do or do not want," I remind him as I pull myself free. He steps back, his eyes wide with shock. I snap my mouth shut and watch him carefully. He looks as if I had struck him. And maybe, emotionally, I just did. Dillon has prided himself on how he never tells me what to do. I would still be pregnant if he had any true influence. I lick my lips as I grow self-conscious. "I'll be back later. Don't wait up, Spielberg,"

"You're making a huge mistake," Dillon warns, keeping his voice low so that it wouldn't travel out my open bedroom door. I glance at him over my shoulder. He's probably right. Making mistakes just happens to be what I do best. I curl my fingers into a fist to keep from touching him... And from slapping him. My warring emotions make my head spin. "Be careful,"

"Go back to your girlfriend," I whisper as I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. The flesh protests in pain and I squeeze my eyes shut as he brushes pass me. I pull the door shut behind me and lean against it as I hear Dillon walk out of the mansion. Sometimes I just want to hate him so badly. But, in the end, I only hate myself.


	3. Wasn't Into Going To Church

1-- I'm saddened by the lack of reviews this story has received. I know that people are reading this. The hit count proves that. I beg of you to review. It means a lot to me. But I just hope people are enjoying this. --

"She'll be fine. I just need to get her to wake up," Dillon's voice penetrates the heavy haze that surrounds me. I feel his knuckles on my cheek as he brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes. I struggle to pull myself from the torturous sleep that begins to tighten its grip on me. I can still hear the creaking of the old wooden rocker. I whimper and try to bring my hands to my ears. I need to block the sound out. I feel someone grab my wrists, holding them away from my head. My body thrashes. Don't they understand? I have to make it stop. My body shakes violently. God, I pray, please let me wake up. The baby cries again. That's what brought me here in the first place. I need to find my baby. But the hallway never ends. I can never reach the room. All I hear is the rocking of the chair. White. Everything is so white. It's nearly blinding. My eyes open and I blink against the sudden burst of light. Monica stands, out of place, by my open door. Emily stands beside Dillon, watching me carefully. Dillon, the one holding onto my wrists with one of his hands, uses his free hand to smooth my hair away from my sweat covered face. He looks up at his aunt and cousin. "I've got her. You can go,"

"It wouldn't stop," I mutter as I try again to pull my hands free. The noise is still there as it echoes off the walls of an empty room. The white of my room reminds me of the never-ending hallway that I was trapped in. I can't hear my baby anymore. What did they do to her? I open my mouth to ask but the sound of the chair drains out my voice. Emily casts another mournful look at me over her shoulder before ushering her mother out of my room. Did they take her? Is that why Emily is so sad? It must be. She took my baby and now she regrets it. Is it too late? No, it can't be. Dillon holds my wrists tightly and I begin to struggle as tears spill down my pale cheeks. Why won't he let me block it out? Why won't it stop? "Let me go. I have to make it go away,"

"Hey, it was just a dream. It's over," He assures me softly as he brushes the tears from my cheeks. I whimper as I give up trying to explain. I need to break free. It's my only hope for stopping the dreadful noise that haunts me. There's no sign of a baby ever being here. That doesn't make sense. I heard her cry. She has to be here. They wouldn't have taken her from me. He wouldn't have let them take our daughter. I know he wouldn't. I glance at him suspiciously. No, he wouldn't. I try again to tug myself free. Dillon releases my wrists and I suck in a stunned breath at my unexpected victory. He pulls me against his chest before I get a chance to cover my ears and I sob into his chest. One of my arms is crushed between our bodies so I wrap my free arm tightly around his neck and pull him closer. It has to stop. I can't take much more. "Just breathe. It was just a nightmare,"

"Where is she, Dillon? Where did they take her?" I pull back as fresh tears cascade down my cheeks. The sound is beginning to fade as rage and panic floods my veins. Dillon looks at me in stunned confusion as I pound my fists against his chest. I begin to kick myself free of his grip, my body getting tangled in the sheets and blankets. I fight against everything that holds me down. I have to get out of here. I have to find my baby. I move to get out of the bed when Dillon's hand wraps around my upper arm, pulling me back. Why is he doing this? Why won't he let me find her? She needs her mother, damn it. I heard her crying. I have to find my daughter. I place a hand to my stomach and close my eyes. A broken sob escapes my lips. "My baby. Where's my baby?"

"Lulu, the baby's gone," Dillon whispers, pain flashing in his eyes. Reality slams into me and I feel myself collapse into his arms. The world around me stops spinning as his words play over in my head. _The baby's gone. Lulu, the baby's gone. Gone._ I shake my head pitifully. My lungs burn. I can't seem to pull oxygen into them as I sob helplessly against Dillon's chest. Yes, my baby's gone. I remember now. And it's my fault. I killed my own kid because I couldn't be bothered; I couldn't be good enough. The fear subsides and I feel myself begin to drown in guilt. Dillon pulls me up towards my pillows and pushes me down gently. He stretches out beside me, tugging me back into his arms so my head rests on his chest. I struggle to regain my composure. Dillon strokes my hair with one hand. "I was waiting for it to hit you. I'm just... I'm glad you're letting me be around for you,"

The words shock me out of the blubbering state I've slipped into. I pull back and wipe the residual tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. Dillon, noting the sudden change in my demeanor, sighs and knocks my hand away to do the job himself. I force a smile that I hope looks grateful. How could I have let it go so far? I realize that I had still been trapped in my nightmare, unaware of my reality. And then it had hit me and I really hadn't cared that Dillon could see the weakness in me. But now I'm completely aware again. I stiffen my spine and prepare to make a rude comment. It's better if he just leaves till I can form an excuse for my behavior. "So, which did you adopt? A puppy, a highway, or a life?"

"What are you doing with your life, Lulu? Do you really think you can live off of snide comments and your looks?" Dillon's voice is harsh and cold. I nearly flinch under the impact of his icy stare. I've pushed too far. I have done so many things to the blonde haired boy in front of me. And this is the first time I have ever seen true disgust in his eyes. My stomach turns over as I battle to control my nausea. My head pounds and the room begins to spin. Dillon's voice continues to penetrate the violent haze I'm suddenly trapped in. "You're going nowhere, Lulu, really fast. You're going to end up addicted to drugs and unable to find a way out,"

"I'm a Spencer," I remind him with a hint of bitterness in my voice. He scoffs at that and rage boils thickly in my veins. I find it growing more and more difficult to pull oxygen in and out of my lungs. Dear God. I'm going to suffocate under all my anger. "We're strong,"

"A lot of good that's gotten Carly. I mean, she's a Spencer, isn't she? She's spent time in a psych ward after she got too crazy for Sonny to hide away," Dillon recalls carefully. I clench my fists, my long painted nails digging into my palms. I bite my lip and get to my feet. Maybe pacing will make this fury dissipate. Every word out of his mouth makes me angrier. "Bobbie and your mother have had their share of issues too,"

"You bastard," I spit the words out as the poison of it burns my tongue. My hand reaches out and connects with his cheek. The relief of the contact soothes me. In a split second I find myself on top of Dillon, my hands pulling apart his shirt. I lift a hand and scratch his neck. He struggles and flips us over. He restrains one of my wrists up next to my head but is unable to grab my left one. He uses his free hand to cover my mouth and stifle my scream of protest. I bite down on his hand and he pulls back, surprise registering in his eyes. I get in a few more hits before he finds a tight grip on my left wrist. I sag beneath him, breathing hard as reality seems to break in. I feel the moisture of tears on my cheek. When did I start crying? The door to my bedroom opens and we look over as we hear Georgie gasp. She covers her mouth and steps back, her body colliding with the wall. After a few seconds of being frozen in shock, I manage to push Dillon off of me. I grip my head as the pain intensifies. Dillon sits up and places a hand on the back of my neck. "It hurts,"

"I'll get you something to help with that," Dillon gets up and looks around the room. The empty Tylenol bottle lays on the floor and he sighs. He heads to the door to find some, but stops next to Georgie. "Just stay here. I'll explain,"

"Explain? I don't think there's a good enough reason as to why you were on top of _her_," Georgie meekly points at me before choking back a sob. Dillon sighs, holding up a hand to signify his need for a few moments. Georgie nods, sagging against my wall. Dillon disappears and I can hear him heading downstairs. I glance up at the light haired brunette, but intend to keep my mouth shut. She, apparently, doesn't have the same intentions. "Lying again, Lulu? Is your bed too cold now without Dillon around? I bet you wish you were still pregnant, huh? Then you would still have control over our lives,"

"I don't need a baby to do that," I point out, reveling in the power her jealousy gives me. She blinks, stunned by the truth in my words. I smile callously. I stand, praying my legs don't give out beneath my weight. I focus my attention on Georgie, hoping it blocks out my pain and confusion. The room spins around me, thankfully slower than before. George seems to sense my intentions and heads out to the hallway. I rush after her, cutting her off at the top of the stairs. "Don't you ever wonder why it was so easy for him to fall into bed with me? God, it must've killed you to know that you were so easily replaced,"

"You don't know anything!" Georgie's voice grows in volume and I wince as the sound makes me nearly double over in pain. I hold my ground and pray that Dillon returns soon with the Tylenol. I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. He must've heard Georgie screams at me. I open my mouth to calm her but she cuts me off. "He'll never love you. _No one_ will ever love you,"

"Georgie, that's enough," Dillon's voice sounds from the bottom of the stairs. Emily and Monica step out of the den as Tracy walks out from the Kitchen hallway. I glance back at Georgie and notice the wild look in her eyes. "Just leave Lulu alone. She's not feeling well,"

"Poor, pitiful Lulu. Maybe it's a brain tumor. That would be the next best thing to control Dillon, wouldn't it? You didn't want to bother yourself with a baby, but cancer would do just as well, right? You're pathetic," Georgie grabs onto my shoulder, her nails biting into my skin. Everything slows down around me as I watch the Tylenol bottle fall from Dillon's hand. He runs up the stairs as the world tilts. I feel the stairs hit my back as his arms catch me. I hear a scream. An ear-splitting, inhuman sound. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face in Dillon's chest. He places a hand over my head, preventing me from looking even if I wanted to. I can feel the breath stall in his chest. There's commotion beneath us on the ground floor. Dillon sinks down onto the stairs, taking me with him.

"Just keep your eyes closed," He warns me softly. I can hear the tears in his voice, feel the sobs that break loose from his chest. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. He buries his face in the crook of my neck and tightens his grip on my small body. I hear Emily ask Alice for a sheet and Monica tell the operator there's no rush on the ambulance. I push Dillon back, unable to stop myself. I find my way down the stairs, ignoring Dillon and Emily's attempts to stop me. Tracy grabs my arm as I reach the bottom of the stairs and she tries to steer me clear of the scene that's landed in the front hall. Dillon stands beside his mother, effectively blocking my view. "Lulu, don't. Please,"

"Move," I demand, pushing between him and his mother. The sigh collectively and step aside. Emily bites her lip and hold the sheet away from Georgie's lifeless body. Someone has shut her eyes and she nearly looks like she's asleep. Her neck is bent at an impossibly angle, the only sign of her death. I reach out and touch her hand. It's still warm but my fingers find no pulse in her wrist. Her hair is spread out around her head. I back away slowly, pushing Dillon's comforting hands away from me. My back hits the wall and I slide down to the floor. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my chin against them. I try to shut my eyes and find myself unable to look away from the lifeless body of Georgie Jones. At some point, I'm unsure as to when, Dillon finds his way next to me. The cops and paramedics arrive. They escort a hysterical commissioner out with the body of the young girl. I blink as Georgie disappears and Detective Cruz Rodriguez kneels in front of me. I'm familiar with the man. He became Lucky's partner when Jesse was shot. I force a shaky smile and take a deep breath to hide my tears. "I don't think I pushed her. But I'm not sure. How can I be sure?"

"Lulu? Do you know who I am?" His voice holds a hint of concern so I nod to reassure him. He smiles, apparently to reassure me. He pulls out a pen and a small notebook. "I need you to tell me what happened. Can you do that?"

"Yeah. She walked into my room and found me with Dillon. We weren't do anything but she jumped to the wrong conclusion. He went to get my Tylenol. I have a bad headache," I touch my head and swallow the bile rising in my throat. Cruz holds up the bottle that Dillon had dropped. I smile gratefully and look up to find Tracy handing me a glass of cold water. I take four of the small pills and sigh, closing my eyes as the scene replays in my head. "We fought... Verbally, you know? She pushed me, but Dillon was quick. I didn't see her fall, but I heard her scream. She was dead by the time I got down here and saw her,"

"That's what everyone told me too. This was an accident, Lulu. Nothing more," Cruz pats my knee and smiles again. I can only stare at the spot where Georgie's body had been. Edward barges in the door, complaining about the rate of teenagers dying at the mansion. I look at Dillon, the question in my eyes. He shakes his head and just strokes my hair. He eventually, with the help of his mother and Emily, got me into my bed. I don't remember the trip upstairs or even falling asleep. All I could see, hear, and feel was the last moments of Georgie's life.


	4. Let All The Ashes Fall To The Floor

----I apologize with the errors from when I originally uploaded this chapter. Here, ya go. Thanks for the reviews. And thanks to CharmedRox09 for pointing out the mistake.---- 

"A tragedy by definition is a disastrous event. There could never be anything more disastrous than a life cut short by a horrorific moment caused by uncertain circumstances. But there is a reason for all things, good and bad , in life. God's will shall be done," Father Coates, the local priest, continues with the service as tears drip off my chin. His words fade away, overpowered by the scream that echoes in my mind. I stare unseeingly at the sea of mourning people around me. My father bows his head, glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes. I'm surprised that he bothered to come at all. My mother is quickly slipping back into a catatonic state. I would've guessed that he would be holding her hand for the last few moments that she is actually with us. Tracy squeezes my hand. I choke back a sob. She just nods and focuses her attention back on Father Coates. Carly squeezes my shoulder from where she sits behind me. Why are they comforting me? I'm the one who did this. Don't they realize that? I provoked Georgie. She wouldn't have pushed me if I hadn't mouthed off. Lucky, Elizabeth, Cameron, Nikolas, and Spencer are sitting in the row in front of me. Sonny, Bobbie, and Lucas are behind me with Carly. My dad's on my left, Tracy to my right, and Ned beside his mother. Dillon's in the front row with Felicia, Mac, and Maxie. Various members of the police force and numerous students from PCU sit on the left side of the church. 

Dillon and Mac eulogize Georgie with eloquent words that I'll never remember. I'm only here to make amends. I don't think I can live with Georgie's blood on my hands. Felicia dissolves into a fresh round of all-consuming sobs. Mac's grip on her body is the only thing keeping her upright. I sit, still and numb, until everyone else rises. People cluster together, murmuring softly about the fallen girl we were all here to mourn. Carly touches my shoulder, breaking me from my thoughts. I stand, hugging her and then Bobbie. Lucas shrugs, losing himself in his grief. I force a sad smile, burying my guilt deep within the recesses of my soul. Sonny touches my arm and says something that I assume is comforting. I'm unsure, unable to decipher the swords over the screaming in my head. I nod, force a few smiles, and turn in time to catch Dillon's broken gaze. He notices me and breaks away from the group of PCU students he had been discussing Georgie with. He makes his way over to me and I fight the urge to duck away. It would be so easy to hide in a crowd like this. He catches me before I can make up my mind. I muster up the best smile I can. "Where's your niece? Brooke, right?" 

"Diego's funeral in Venezuela," Dillon mutters as he picks at a piece of nonexistent lint on his suit jacket. I nod, unable to think of anything else to say. Diego Alcazar, my partner in crime and Brooke's ex-boyfriend, had been shot and killed in a police raid at some warehouse. Skye and Lila Rae had flown out with Lorenzo the night before to attend the memorial. "It's just kind of weird that he died, you know, on the same day as Georgie. It's like... I don't know. Fated or something," 

"It's stupid," I correct as the police report came to mind. Diego had gone on a drug run for Coleman and gotten caught up in a bust. He had made the mistake of drawing a weapon and firing at an officer. That single misjudgment had cost him his life. I feel a pang of grief. Diego had been a good friend in his own way. I can't blame him for what my life has become. He had never meant for me to have gotten hurt. He had said as much on numerous occasions. I sigh, brushing the tears from my pale cheeks. Tracy appears behind me, putting one hand on my shoulder and another on Dillon's. "Can we go?" 

"Yes, of course. Dillon?" She looks questionably at her youngest son. I just continue to stare at my feet. Everyone is heading to Kelly's for a party in the deceased's honor. I can't handle much more and had already opted out of the gathering. Dillon, however, is Georgie's ex-husband and current boyfriend. There's no logical explanation as to why he wouldn't go. He nods, placing a hand on the small of my back to lead me out of the small church. I want to say something, to question his decision. But I bite my tongue. I think I've said enough lately. I turn when Elizabeth, my sister in law, calls my name. I wave Tracy and Dillon on. There's plenty of people for them to mingle with since two-thirds of Port Charles had attended the funeral. I force a smile for her. 

"How are you?" Her voice is tinged with concern and nausea rolls over in my stomach. I sigh, keeping the fake smile on my face. It's amazing that no one notices exactly how fake it really is. She puts a hand over her stomach, a clear reminder of her pregnancy. My brother walks up behind her and rests a hand on her shoulder, Cam balanced on his hip. "I heard you were there when she fell," 

"I was. She pushed me and fell from the momentum," My voice is monotone, void of any emotion. I don't have the energy to keep up the act. I'm sure they'll think it's just grief over Georgie and Diego's death. The screaming in my head becomes louder and I wince, pressing a hand to my left temple. Elizabeth steps forward, concerned for my well being and I push her back. I take a single step to the left. I hear something whiz by my head. Someone, Tracy or Dillon, calls my name. I remain frozen as a burning sensation spreads through my shoulder. I can't move, can't scream for help over the noise in my head. Elizabeth falls to the ground. She's unconscious and blood is spilling out of her temple. Someone takes Cameron. I see that it's Bobbie. I blink and see the fading tail-lights of Sonny's limo. I stumble and feel someone's arms wrap around my waist. Everything blurs around me. I look down at Elizabeth again. Her body is shaking and she's struggling to breath. Lucky's holding her hand and I hear an ambulance pull up. Whoever has a grip on me leads me towards where the second ambulance is arriving. The paramedics lay me back onto a stretcher. The world finally becomes dark around me. 

–...–...–...– 

"Elizabeth," My voice is hoarse and my throat burns from the effort it takes to utter the name. I blink, my eyes tearing up under the harsh florescent lights of wherever I am. I groan and try to life my right arm to cover my eyes. It burns, a sharp pain flooding my body. I let my arm drop and whimper in pain. I squeeze my eyes shut, slowly opening them as someone dims the ridiculously bright lights. Dillon's face comes into view at the foot of my bed. My dad is over by the light switch and Tracy was to my left. Everything rushes back to me. Georgie falling. The funeral. "What happened?" 

"We think it was Alcazar. Coleman's bar is under Jason and Sonny's protection. He blames them for the drug bust going bad. The police thing he paid someone to retaliate while he's in Venezuela. It gives him an alibi," Tracy scoffs at Dillon's words, obviously displeased with the lack of evidence. Dillon licks his lips and I notice just how close to losing it he is. My dad hasn't moved from where his place by the door. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. 

"Daddy? Can you check on Mom for me?" I know it's what he wants to do. I offer him the excuse and he quickly takes it. He presses a kiss to my head before ducking out the door. Tracy sniffles and forces a smile for my benefit. Something is wrong. I can sense it. Elizabeth. Oh God. I glance between Dillon and his mother frantically, searching their eyes for answers. A sob sticks in my throat. "Elizabeth? Dillon, what about Elizabeth?" 

"The bullet entered her left temple. Patrick Drake operated. He did everything he could, but Elizabeth's brain dead. The only decision left to make is whether she is going to be kept on life support long enough for the baby to develop," Tracy squeezes my hand as she talks. I close my eyes, leaning my head back as I fight for my composure. She would be fine if I hadn't pushed her. That bullet was meant for Sonny, not Liz. But I had pushed her away, had stepped back. And the bullet hit her instead. Now my brother had to lose his wife and possibly lose his unborn baby too. "Dr. Lee is running a second paternity test. Apparently Liz had one already because the baby might me Jason Morgan's. The father of the baby decides how long Elizabeth lives on those machines," 

"Jason? What? I don't understand," My head spins. Elizabeth and Jason? She cheated on my brother? I shake my head, closing my eyes again. I moan as the pain in my shoulder intensifies. I open my eyes again as my body begins to shake. I'm so cold. Dillon looks from his mother to me, panic in his eyes. Tracy gets up. Something about a doctor. Robin appears in the doorway with a nurse. Epiphany, I think her name is. I groan again as everything around me fades away to darkness. 

–...–...–...– 

"Dillon?" The lights in my hospital room are off. The sky outside my window is dark. Tracy is no longer at my bedside. I look around and find Dillon's head resting on my bed by my legs. His eyes are shut and his breathing is even. I smile, reaching out to touch his messy hair with my fingers. He stirs, his eyes opening to meet mine. "What happened?" 

"Complication with the surgery they did to remove the bullet from your shoulder," He sits up, stretching the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. He blinks, rubbing his eyes tiredly. I glance at the clock on the wall. It's barely after three in the morning. I hear footsteps out in the hallway and blink again. I remember Liz. I remember the devastation and choices my brother faces. The paternity test. I meet Dillon's eyes and he smiles softly. "Liz's baby is Lucky's," 

"What did Lucky decide?" I ask, my heart breaking for my big brother and Cameron. At least Lucky legally adopted Cam and won't lose him at the same time he loses his wife. "Is he going to keep her alive to have the baby?" 

"Yeah. Dr. Lee seems confident that Elizabeth can survive on the machines long enough to let the baby develop," Dillon sighs, sinking back in the uncomfortable chair. He's holding something back. I lick my lips, waiting for the next round of bad news. "Your mom is gone. She slipped back into the psychomotor whatever it's called," 

"Georgie, Diego, my mom, Liz..." I suck in a painful breath. My mom is back to staring at a wall, unaware of everything around her. Elizabeth is stuck in a black hole, her body being kept alive by machines until her baby can be born. Diego and Georgie are both dead, both buried. "Georgie and Diego died on the same day, right? And now we lose my mom and Elizabeth at the same time? All within the same week?" 

"Georgie and Diego both died because of bad choices they made. It sucks and it's not fair, but they made the decisions that led up to their deaths," Dillon's voice is tinged with anger. At me or at them, I'm not sure. His eyes are wild and his face covered in exhaustion. I bite my lip and remain silent. "We all knew that your mom was going to disappear again. You told me so yourself, remember? And Elizabeth? Elizabeth was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If it hadn't been her it would've... It would've been you and I don't think I could handle that. I was terrified you were going to die as it is," 

"It hit my shoulder. No organs or muscles. I'll be out of here in a few days," I assure him. I have never been shot before or seen anyone get shot... But how long could they really keep me? God, I pray it's only a few days. I can't keep pretending that everything is okay. I need solitude. Dillon smiles sadly at me, taking my hand. I bite my lip again, keeping my composure. I just have to keep playing it cool. Calm and collected. "How's Lucky holding up? Losing mom and Liz in one day has got to be rough on him," 

"He left a few hours ago. Elizabeth's not going to come back. It's not a coma. She's dead. Machines are just keeping her body around as an incubator for the baby," Dillon mutters. He glances up at my face, obviously noticing how insensitive his words were. He opens his mouth to apologize but I wave it away. I can't let him see the guilt weighing on me. He sighs, leaning forward in his chair. "It's just been a horrible day. I had to eulogize Georgie and then you were _shot_ leaving the _church_ where we held her funeral. Damn mobsters," 

"I can't blame Alcazar if it was a hit that he ordered. He's lashing out, because he's drowning in grief. He missed out on nearly all of Diego's life and now his son is dead. It's a hard thing to take," I explain carefully. Diego had never been Dillon's favorite person. He stares at me skeptically. I shrug. "Diego and I were kind of close. I understand the situation," 

"You're too sympathetic," Dillon reminds me. I nearly laugh out loud at the comment. _Too sympathetic?_ I had the blood of two people on my hands. I broke apart his marriage for my own selfish reasons. I'm anything but sympathetic. Dillon licks his lips and smiles softly. "He was there for you, wasn't he?" 

"What do you mean?" The question puzzles me. Diego and I had been friends on some level. We had committed crimes together, plotted together, and we had always had each other's backs. But we were never more than partners in crime. 

"Diego was there for you when I wasn't," Dillon muses, obviously disliking the idea. His brow creased as we both remain silent. I had never really thought about my relationship with Diego outside of our shortcomings and bad ideas. We danced, played pool, and figured out how to get what we wanted by any means necessary. But we were a lot alike. We understood each other without discussing it or analyzing our childhoods. "Be honest with me. Even if you know I won't like the answer," 

My mind flashes back to a conversation Diego and I had on the docks. He had gone out of his way to make sure I was okay after we had executed our plan to break up Dillon and Georgie. He was nearly heartbroken when I told him about the baby and the turmoil I was drowning in. I nod as a fresh wave of guilt for my fallen friends rips through me. My shoulder burns and tears prick my eyes, rolling softly down my cheeks. "Yeah, Dillon. He was there for me when you weren't," 


	5. My Confidence Is Dead

---- Okay, I want to thank everyone for their reviews so far. I love hearing what you think. I realize that you are all very busy with your real lives, but if you could each just take a few minutes to review the chapters you read I would be so grateful. I just want to know who all is reading and what each of you think. Regardless, you all rock for reading this and sticking with me so far. Now, I have a question for you guys. And this isn't just a trick to get you to review. I'm going to be pushing Elizabeth's pregnancy along so that I can have the baby delivered in the next few chapters. Do you think Liz and Lucky should have a boy or a girl? Let me know what you all think. Majority rules this time around so cast a vote. ----

I hate how the world can go on around you as if nothing has happened when, in reality, everything you have ever known and treasured has been decimated. It's been a week since the shooting. Three different cops, including Det. Rodriguez, have been by to question me. My answers are always the same. I didn't see anything or hear anything. I didn't realize there were bullets flying until one hit my shoulder and I watched Elizabeth fall to the ground. Tracy's been here every day, staying until I fall asleep. I always wake up in the middle of the night to find Dillon asleep in the chair beside my bed. He'll wake up and we'll talk for a few hours before we both give in to the exhaustion. My father stopped in the day after I was shot, but only to announce that he was leaving. I can't say I'm surprised. My mom's gone. We can finally say we've tried everything. He needs to mourn. We had a taste of what life would be like with her around and then had it snatched out of our hands. We all need time to deal with it. Lucky brought Cameron by and we talked about the Elizabeth situation. He refuses to let his child die along with his wife. He'll save one of them. I sit up, broken out of my haze, and fix the sweatshirt I've just pulled over my head. I wince as I push my injured arm through the sleeve. I'm finally getting out of here. I look up as the door to my room opens. Sonny pokes his head in, obviously unsure if he's welcome or not. He trips over his own feet as Carly pushes him and shuts the door behind them. "Hey little cousin,"

"Hi Carly," I murmur, adjusting the sling I have to wear on my arm. Carly grimaces and moves to the bedside to assist me. I smile gratefully and watch Sonny fidget nervously across the room. Carly licks her lips and I notice that she's just as nervous as Sonny. I sigh as I realize they blame themselves for the shooting. "It's not your fault, you know. It's not Lorenzo's either. This doesn't have to go any further. Not this time. His kid was shot and killed. Just let him deal with it,"

"You were shot too, Lulu. Elizabeth is brain dead because of this. She and I were never remotely close to being friends, but you guys don't deserve to pay for Alcazar's grief," Carly argues, sinking into the orange chair by my bed. Sonny licks his lips and stuffs his hands in his pockets, not bothering to say anything. Just as well. Carly can do enough talking for the both of them. She flicks a strand of blonde hair away from her face before continuing. "I was married to Lorenzo, okay? I know how he thinks. I know how he felt about missing out on Diego's life. He loved his son deeply and unconditionally. A loss like that is unbearable. Lorenzo is out for blood, for revenge. He needs to feel like he did something for Diego, that his son didn't just die for nothing. That something was done because Diego has no future anymore. Sonny didn't tip the cops off to the drugs at the warehouse. Sonny didn't tell them to draw their weapons or to fire. He didn't pull the trigger and kill Diego. But, in Lorenzo's eyes, he might as well have,"

"Diego was my friend, Carly..." I feel tears prick my eyes as my throat closes around the air in my lungs that I'm trying to exhale. I search for the words to explain my relationship with Diego. There are none. He was Diego. Nothing more. Nothing less. And that's all that I needed from him. I look up as my door opens and closes again. My tearful gaze meets Dillon's strong, reassuring one. He eyes Carly and Sonny suspiciously as he makes his way over to the other side of my bed.

"Diego was there for her, Carly. When no one else was. Right Lulu? Say it. You admitted it to me. Admit it to her. We all have to hear it. We have to know that we failed you," Dillon's voice falls quiet and I pull my eyes from his. Carly's hand falls from my bed to her lap, her eyes drawn to the floor as her mouth falls open slightly. Sonny, who hasn't said a single word, steps forward towards his wife's side. I close m eyes against the anger and bitterness that's rolling off of Dillon in unconquerable waves. He sighs, stuffing his hands in his pocket. "We ignored her. We watched her fall from grace with unseeing eyes. But Diego saw her. That's what she's trying to tell you, Carly. Diego was there for her. Diego helped her. Diego had her back. And we just pale in comparison,"

"I never said that!" I snap, unaware of the fact that I'm now screaming at the blonde boy with crazy hair. Carly blinks, restraining the tears I can see so clearly in her eyes. I clench the hand of my good hand into a tight fist. How dare Dillon say these things to me, to Carly and Sonny? Yes, I admitted that Diego had been there for me when Dillon hadn't. But so had Carly. She had literally held me when I had broken down. She listened to me agonize endlessly over the decision to have the abortion. Just like my brothers and Elizabeth. And even Georgie. Everyone, but Dillon. The realization refuels my anger. My tears vanish and I look to him with cold and unfeeling eyes. "You misunderstood me, Dillon. Diego was there, yes. But so was Carly, Elizabeth, Lucky, Emily, and Nikolas. Hell, Georgie too. Did you know that Sonny was the first one to know that I was pregnant? He was on the docks and I was looking for Carly. She was in Africa hunting down Jax so he offered to listen in her place. Your mother, a woman I could barely stand being in the same room as, told me deep dark secrets so that I could make the right choices for my life. Your mother held my hand at Georgie's funeral. Your mother spends days on end sitting by bedside here. You hide in the shadows. You wait till I'm asleep to sneak in here and ease your selfish worries. No one else paled in comparison to Diego except you. You, Dillon, do you get it now? They didn't fail me. But you did,"

"I apologize Carly. Apparently I'm a pretty big jerk for fighting for my kid's right to live," Dillon doesn't even bother to glance in Carly's direction. I see my cousin open her mouth and then snap it shut without making a sound. She doesn't move, although I can tell she wants to bolt. I don't blame her. Even I want to run away, to get the hell out of dodge while I still can. Dillon's furious. Serves him right. I'm pretty damn angry too. How dare he twist my words and poison my relationship with Diego, with Carly? "I didn't realize that I was being so blind when it came to your needs. Especially since I permitted you to have an abortion I was dead-set against!"

"Permitted me? I was going to do what I thought was best regardless of whether you could admit it or not. And, yes, Dillon. You were completely blind to what I needed. But why shouldn't you be? You don't love me!" The last sentence leaves my body on a sob as tears break free and streak my flushed cheeks. Dillon steps back as if I had hit him. Carly springs into action and wraps her arms around my small body. She sits on the edge of my bed, rocking me back and forth while she shoots nasty glares at Dillon over my head. I hear him step forward and glance over in time to see Sonny wrap an arm around Dillon's elbow to hold him back. I want to take the words back, to erase my show of emotion and devastation. I turn my head away, unable to look at him any longer. I hear his voice, but I can't understand what he's saying. Carly places her hand over my ear, cradling my head to her chest and blocking out anything Dillon has to say. My eyes close on their own accord and I yawn out of exhaustion. Carly lays me back against the pillows, urging me to sleep. I look up to see Epiphany standing over me with a syringe and I realize why I'm so tired suddenly. They sedated me. I look around the nurse to where Sonny is still holding Dillon back. I close my eyes again, letting the world fade away from me once again.

--------

"Why do we have to go ten rounds with each other every other conversation? Why can't we get over the hurt and the betrayals? You lied. I broke your heart. You had an abortion. I was an insensitive jerk. Those are the facts, Lulu. They're not going to change," Dillon's voice is tinged with regret as we sit in the Quartermaine den. Ned looks up briefly from the L&B papers he's looking over at the desk that sits in the corner. A giant Christmas tree towers over me as I lay back on the couch. I'm under strict orders, from Tracy, to rest. My pain pills and a glass of water sit on a silver tray on the floor beside me. Alice brought them in about half an hour ago, but I find myself reluctant to take them. My brother is just now recovering from a disastrous drug addiction. An addiction to the very pills next to me. The tiny white tablets nearly destroyed his career and marriage, his entire life. Dillon follows my gaze and sighs softly.

"Why can't you get over the abortion? I made the right decision, Dillon. I really believe that. Do I think of what might of happened if I hadn't had the procedure? Of course I do. I'm human. But neither you nor I were prepared to take care of a little baby. I couldn't have let someone else raise my kid, not even if you were that someone. There's no way that I could have stepped aside and watched you take care of my baby. You would've cracked under the pressure, passing the kid off to some nanny. It would've resented us both," I lean my head back against the plush pillows Tracy had sent downstairs for me. I catch Ned's knowing gaze and find myself reassured by his agreement in my choices. I close my eyes and sigh. My shoulder is throbbing with a strong pulse of tormenting agony.

"Alright, Dillon, that's enough. The poor girl is obviously in pain," Ned's voice is soft and commanding. Dillon offers no objection and I can hear him sink into one of the overstuffed chairs. Ned sits in the other. I don't know which of them is in the chair by my head or which of them is in the one by my feet. I don't care enough to open my eyes. The pain in my shoulder refuses to let up and I feel myself wishing for the numbness the pills will bring me. My fear of dependency stops me from reaching for the little white tablets. I focus on the conversation around me and find myself relaxing. "Look at her. She's already asleep. I can't believe how much she's been going through. It's like you said, Dillon. You broke her heart, right? And then she found out she was pregnant and made one of the hardest decisions she'll ever make. She had an abortion,"

Dillon scoffs. The sound comes from the chair down by my feet by the terrace doors. His bitterness stings. A lot like salt in an open and bleeding gash. My anger forces me to decide to let them go on thinking that I'm asleep. "She wants to move on from the abortion, remember?"

"And you don't? It happened, Dillon. Yeah, it sucks, but it's over. Neither of you can live your lives caught up on this one tragedy. You'll have plenty more that you're going to have to deal with," I hear Ned sigh and I resist the urge to get up and hug him. My annoyance towards Dillon and my injured shoulder protest against letting them know I'm awake. I sigh softly and hear Dillon let out a tiny chuckle. "She actually looks peaceful. I haven't seen her like this in months,"

"Since I left her high and dry without a second glance, right? Yeah, I learned today just how abandoned she felt," Dillon exhales loudly and I can tell he's frustrated. I can practically see him clenching and unclenching his fists against his thighs. He always does that when he can't control the situation he's in.

Ned sighs again. "Who else would she have to turn to if she hadn't gotten pregnant? Most of this family didn't acknowledge her existence until they found out that she was carrying the precious Quartermaine heir, Dillon. Her brothers are all over the place with their respective problems. Elizabeth and Emily are caught up in all that drama. Luke's everywhere but actually here. Georgie hated her guts for the most part. And Carly is just as jumbled,"

"She had Diego," Dillon assures his older brother softly. I can hear the distaste in his voice. I want to roll my eyes, to tell him to get the hell over it, but I remain silent and serene. "He was there for her,"

"And Diego's dead. She would be completely alone right now if you hadn't gotten her pregnant," Ned promises just as quietly. I realize that he's right. My family, including Aunt Bobbie and Carly, loves me, but their own problems will always take priority over me. My dad is never going to actually be around. The Quartermaines only see me as the girl Dillon once got pregnant, the charity case for them to fawn over. And Diego is dead. I'm actually alone in the world. Tears prick my eyes and I force myself to regain control. I can't let them know I'm awake. Not yet. "I don't know Lulu very well. I sit back and watch everything happening to everyone else. But I've stayed on the sidelines long enough when it comes to her. I love you, Dillon. You're my brother. But I'm not going to let you do this ridiculous dance with her anymore. Why don't you go upstairs before she wakes up?"

Dillon scoffs again. I can feel his disbelief. It's nearly as strong as my own. Ned's stepping in for me? Who would have ever thought? "Ned, I know you mean well... But you can't keep me from Lulu,"

"Why does it matter, Dillon? You walked away without listening to her, without giving her the benefit of the doubt. You backed her into a corner when she was pregnant until Luke pulled you and the family off of her. You care about her. I get it. But she's not okay. Just let her get back on her feet before you guys start this... Whatever it is that's going on between you and Lulu," Ned gets to his feet and I realize he's serious. I yawn, stretching my good arm over my head and blinking against the lights around me. "Hey sunshine. Feel any better?"

"What's going on?" I ask, my voice soft. I force myself to seem completely clueless. Dillon remains silent, raising an eyebrow at his older brother. The tall man with dark hair and kind eyes gently smiles down at me.

"Dillon's just leaving. Why don't you take your pain killers and then we'll get you upstairs, okay?" Ned sits on the coffee table across from me, slowly helping me sit up. He hands me the pills and water. I swallow them down with a grimace. I look up and meet Dillon's eyes. His face is void of any emotion and I can't figure out what he's thinking. "Come on, Lulu,"

"I'm not tired," I argue, sinking back against the plush couch. Ned nods, glancing briefly at Dillon as he heads back to the desk. "I missed something. Dillon, tell me what's going on,"

"My _brother_ has decided to step in as your protector. He thinks I'm no good for you, that I only hurt you and try to destroy your sanity. So he's keeping us away from each other. Right, Ned?" He smirks humorlessly. His voice is tinged with unconcealed bitterness. My mouth falls open. I don't know what to make of his anger at Ned's plan. Ned sighs, setting down the pen he had just retrieved from a desk drawer.

"All you guys do is argue. It's not healthy for either one of you," Ned assures his little blonde brother. Dillon lets out a snort of laughter void of any humor. "Lulu, you were just shot. And, you, Dillon... Your girlfriend just died. You both need to recover respectively. I'm just giving you the time and space to do so,"

"You really are trying to keep Dillon from me, aren't you?" My voice is breathy with disbelief. The idea is ridiculous.

"Now that's a horrid idea," Tracy comments, breezing into the room. She waves a hand of dismissal when Ned opens his mouth to argue his point. Dillon, clearly surprised, crosses his arms across his chests and leans back in his chair to see where his mother is going with this train of thought. She glances over at me, her hawk like eyes roaming over me carefully. "What are you doing up? You shouldn't be overly excited. Have you taken your pills?"

"Alice brought them in and Ned made sure I took them," I assure her with a fake smile I've perfected. I obediently lay back against the pillows again when she keeps her steady eyes on me. She nods approvingly and turns back to her eldest son. Her hair and outfit is immaculate as always. She carries herself with confidence, no longer the worried woman that spent endless hours in my hospital room. Now this is the step-monster I know and love.

"I appreciate your attempts, however misguided, at protecting Lulu. She's perfectly fine, I assure you. Dillon's good for her. Leave them be," Tracy's tone leaves no room for argument and Ned sighs, conceding silently. Dillon smirks up at his mother, obviously proud and pleased that he won. I roll my eyes, realizing that I've become a pawn in the Quartermaine game. "Lulu, time to get you upstairs,"

I open my mouth to tell her that I'm not okay, but realize it wouldn't do any good. Dillon laughs softly under his breath as he comes to my side. "Come on, Spencer. Let's do what the woman says,"

"I'm still angry at you," I assure him as I yawn quietly. Maybe I am tired after all. Dillon smirks, pulling me to my feet gently and wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me. "Really, Dillon. You're not forgiven yet. You were a jerk,"

"I know," Dillon murmurs, helping me up the stairs his girlfriend died on only a week and a half before. Her scream echoes in my head, causing me to lose my balance and tighten my grip on Dillon. I hadn't heard it since the funeral. I was convinced that I was finally free from it all. I hear the bullet whizzing by my head, the bullet that took away Liz's life. I close my eyes, grimacing as I try to block it all out. Dillon stops as we reach the top of the stairs. "Lulu? What's wrong?"

"It won't stop," I whisper as tears burn my eyes. I had been so sure. I thought it was over. The sounds of flying bullets and Georgie screaming bounces around my head, making my ears ring. Dillon pushes the door of my room open, leading me to the bed and helping me sit down. He kneels on the floor in front of me, his hands resting on my knees. I open my eyes, seeing my own fear mirrored in his gaze. My eyes close again as the noise in my head grows louder. It's nearly unbearable now. I whimper, rocking forward slowly as press a clenched fist to my forehead. I feel one of Dillon's hands on the back of my neck. My stomach churns as acidic bile rises in my throat. I swallow it down, gasping for air as my lungs burn in protest. "_Oh God_. Make it stop. Please, Dillon, make it go away,"


	6. Let's Use My Lighter

"What in the hell have you done?" Dillon's voice surprises me, causing me to jump away from where I've been staring into the mirror. I know what he's talking about, but decide to play dumb. It's invigorating to watch Dillon get frustrated with me over simple things. He makes his way across the room in four long strides. He reaches out to touch me, but lets his hand fall away at the last second. I turn, raising a confused eyebrow. He's learned my games by now. I know the look in his eyes. He's not going to let me avoid his questions. I smirk, running a hand through my long hair. "Are you insane?"

"I don't know. Probably. Why do you ask? Don't you like it?" I gesture to my freshly dyed hair. The once blonde strands are now a vibrant chestnut with fiery red highlights. My smile grows slightly as I glance over my shoulder at the mirror again. The impulsive decision is one that I'm actually proud of. Dillon, on the other hand, doesn't seem as pleased. I sigh, slightly angry that he ruined such a rare moment of happiness for me. I search for words to explain my choice without having to explain everything that's twisting around in my head. There are no words to describe all of that, there's no way to make him understand it when I don't even know where to begin for myself. "My mother's blonde. I don't want to be my mother,"

"It's not her hair color that put her in that chair, Lulu," Dillon informs me softly. I laugh humorlessly. I never blamed my mother's golden blonde hair for her insanity. I'm just going out of my way to make sure no one makes the mistake of thinking I am anything like that empty shell sitting in a rocking chair inside of Shadybrook. Everyone tells me, every chance they get, that I remind them _so_ much of my mother. I'm tired of hearing it. I'm tired of worrying that I'll become her. I'm Lulu Spencer, daughter of Luke. I'm strong and brave. I keep secrets, tell lies, and never trust anyone but myself. I will never be my mother. I can't break. I can't let myself hide in my own mind. I blink, refocusing my eyes on Dillon. He smiles softly, reaching out to finger a strand of my now dark hair. "It suits you. All dark and twisty,"

"Oh, thanks. Because my soul is a corkscrew, right?" An old joke of ours comes flitting back into my mind. I had been on the couch with some smutty romance novel that had fallen out of Georgie's purse at Kelly's that day. He flung himself down beside me, mocking my choice in reading material. He had stopped laughing when I showed him the name scrawled on the inside cover and revealed that the amusingly dirty book belonged to his angelic girlfriend. We read over a few pages, laughing uncontrollably when the lead male character informed his lover that her soul was a corkscrew. It's been a joke between us ever since. The book is still stashed in my nightstand under a copy of 'Wuthering Heights'. "Things used to be simple, you know? We could sit around making fun of trashy novels Georgie would carry around without it becoming an argument. Who knows? Maybe the new Lulu can handle that,"

"New Lulu? That's what this is all about? You dyed your hair so that you can reinvent yourself, didn't you?" Dillon sighs, letting his hand fall away. I square my shoulders in preparation for the fight that is sure to ensue. A sad reminder of just how much everything has changed, how much _everyone_ has changed. I nod, hoping my lack of participation will end whatever he's trying to start. I'm trying really hard to ignore the screaming and flying bullets in my head. Fighting with Dillon will just give it all too much power, will make it too loud for me to handle. "I thought the old Lulu was pretty fantastic. It sucks that you don't agree,"

"Oh, you thought she was fantastic? You had a pretty bad way of showing it," I remind him, my voice growing harsh on it's own accord. I struggle to regain my earlier bliss. I have to break free. I have to make this stop. I can't take much more of the screaming, of the bullets and the blood. Georgie's dead. Elizabeth might as well be. My heart rate accelerates and I force the air in and out of my burning lungs. My ears start ringing as the room starts spinning. My head pounds as the putrid smell of blood fills my nostrils and makes bile rise in my throat. My shoulder aches, just another painful reminder of what I've done. "No. I can't do this. I can't take it anymore,"

"Take what, Lulu? What in the hell is happening to you?" Dillon reaches out to touch me, his fingertips searing my pale skin. I jerk away, whimpering in pain. I stumble backwards, my knees hitting the edge of my bed. I make my way around it without touching Dillon. My fingers barely have time to wrap around the leather handles of my purse before I flee out my open bedroom door. I can barely hear Dillon calling my name over the screaming in my head. I make my way down the stairs as quickly as possible, tripping over myself with each and every step. I fumble with the doorknob, my hands shaking furiously. I jerk it open, crashing into Emily on my way out. I duck around the corner of the house and collapse against the wall to catch my breath. I listen for the door to close, but it doesn't. Instead I can hear Dillon skidding outside and directly into Emily. "God, Emily, I'm sorry. Have you seen Lulu?"

"Yeah, actually, I think I did. I'm not sure though. Whoever it was came flying through here about a minute ago. Is everything okay?" Emily's voice is tinged with concern. She's one of the very few sane Quartermaine's and I assume that it's from being adopted. I touch my dark hair reverently, wondering why the transformation I had wanted so desperately had been denied. I sigh, leaning my head back against the cool brick and closing my eyes. My entire body aches and burns. My breathing is still erratic and I place my good hand over my injured shoulder.

"Yes. No. I don't know. Can I get back to you on that?" Dillon's nearly as frantic as I am. I can imagine him running his shaky hands through his blonde hair, making it stand on end like I'm used to. I smile softly as I realize that he had ditched the sweater vests recently. He's slowly returning to normal. I, on the other hand, have been spinning in nothing but circles. I back up away from the house, preparing to make a run for it. I should have bolted the second I knew Dillon was following me. Eavesdropping had been a costly mistake. I inhale deeply and start running down the driveway, ducking through the gate and heading as far away as fast as possible.

----..----..--

"What's that old saying? A zebra can't change her stripes?" Maxie's voice, angry and bitter as always, comes up from behind me. I turn on my stool, giving Mike a weary look as I do so. My entire body throbs in pain from my run from the mansion to Kelly's only twenty minutes before. I know that Dillon should be showing up sooner or later, but I'm hoping for the latter. Maxie's short blonde hair falls around her flushed face, her mascara streaking cheeks. Her eyes are red and puffy. It's obvious that she's been crying. And why shouldn't she be? Her sister is dead. Although I'm sure Maxie is jumping for joy over Elizabeth's death sentence. It gives her a fantastic opening with my brother. I sigh, refocusing my attention on the annoying and furious girl in front of me.

"I'm sorry about your sister," I murmur politely. And it's true. Georgie wasn't my favorite person but I didn't want her to die. And I certainly didn't want to be the one to kill her. Maxie sniffles, pressing the tips of her fingers to her cherry red lips. My gaze darts around nervously. Dillon could walk in at any second and I need to be ready to escape. "I really can't do this with you right now, Maxie. Just... Rain check, okay?"

"You killed her! You have everyone wrapped around your finger with that 'pitiful Lulu' act. But I see you for the lying viper you are. You'll pay, Lulu. You won't get away with murdering my sister," Maxie's voice cracks as her shoulders begin to shake with silent tears. The moisture sprinkles over her cheeks, dripping off her chin. I catch a glimpse of Dillon's blonde spikes out in the courtyard. I back away from Maxie slowly, heading for the kitchen. I'll just go out the back alley onto Elm street. Mike eyes me cautiously as I dart around him. I hear the clicking of high heels after me and realize that Maxie is right behind me. "You can't run away from this, Spencer. Georgie deserves justice!"

"Go away! God, you're just as crazy and paranoid as your sister, aren't you?" I spit out, turning around to face the blonde girl. She steps back as if I've slapped her. And I actually wish that I had. But she's pregnant with my brother's baby. I can't risk hurting my future niece or nephew, even if it's mother is Satan's spawn. "Go take care of your precious baby. I don't want my brother to lose anything more,"

"You don't give a damn about, Lucky. It's always all about you. Lulu loves Dillon so it's okay to lie and destroy his marriage. Lulu doesn't want her baby so it's okay to kill it. I'm so sick of Lulu!" Maxie screams, her voice ringing in my ears. Screaming. There's always so much screaming. Pain. Desperation. It doesn't matter. It's just _there_... Echoing in my head. _So sick of Lulu._ Yeah, you and me both, Maxie. I shake my head, the noise in my mind making me dizzy. I dash into the street. I have to get away. A car horn blares at me and I manage to doge the oncoming Sedan. Metal hitting bone. Skull hitting pavement. Flesh being ripped apart. The splintering sounds of destruction make me freeze in the middle of the road. I turn slowly, swallowing hard in fear of what I'll find. Bile rises in my throat as I fall to my knees. Empty, lifeless eyes frozen in horror stare back at me. I wrap my arms around my stomach, rocking back and forth. I look up at the silver Sedan to find my nephew's nanny, Colleen, staring back at me. Apparently I'm not the only one reinventing their hair styles. Her once burnt cinnamon hair is now jet black. She puts the car in reverse, backing it up far enough to pull around Maxie and me. I blink, realizing that my cheeks are wet with tears. How did this happen? First Georgie, then Elizabeth, and now Maxie too? Why do they keep dying? The better question is why do I keep killing them? I never mean to do it. But, in the end, it's still my fault. I feel someone trying to pull me to my feet and I shrug their hands away. I don't want anyone touching me right now.

"Lulu, come on," It's Dillon. I look up, staring at him but not really seeing much of anything. I shake my head, looking back to the broken and battered body of my brother's mistress. Oh God. The baby. I didn't just kill Maxie. I killed my brother's baby. My niece or nephew. I lean forward, emptying the contents of my stomach as tears cascade down my cheeks. Dillon holds my hair back, pulling me to his body when I'm finished.

"She was in the road because of me. Because I killed Georgie," I whisper, unable to do much else. I can't form a coherent thought. I can only stare at her empty body. Blood, thick and gooey, oozes from where the concrete of the road cracked her head open. Her face is frozen in a terrified expression. One of her hand rests over her still flat stomach. _Oh God_. I can't figure out what I'm supposed to be thinking, what I'm supposed to be feeling. Don't you think I'd be a pro at it by now? This is my third victim after all, isn't it? With Georgie I was angry and traumatized from a nightmare that I just couldn't escape. I was shot at the same time as Elizabeth. The pain of my own bullet wound clouding my mind until I finally passed out. But this time... This time I'm stone-cold sober. This time I'm not the victim as well as Maxie. No. This time it's just the blonde girl my brother impregnated. And now she's dead. Her and Lucky's baby are both gone. Dillon sighs into my dark tresses, one hand caressing my hair while the other covers my own over my stomach.

"You didn't kill Georgie," Dillon assures me softly. He actually sounds like he believes it. Is he so naive? Doesn't he see what I've done? My hands are covered in blood. I realize that I'll never be able to wash it away. I blink when I realize that I literally do have Maxie's blood on my hands. One of my hands is resting atop the one of hers that covers her stomach. Crimson blood flows between my fingers and blankets my pale skin. The acrid smell of death fills my nostrils and I gag back the acid rising in my throat again. "Lulu, you're shaking,"

I glance up at him with wide eyes. He's right, I realize. My body is shaking furiously in his arms. A sob breaks free of my chest as I lift Maxie's hand in both of mine. Her blood rolls across my hands, down my wrists, and drips back down to her chest. Her white shirt is completely stained red. I hear sirens approaching in the distance. Mac Scorpio. _Oh no._ I've killed another of his daughters. His _only_ remaining daughter. All that's left of his family is Felicia, Robin, and his brother Robert. But, in all actuality, Robert is more family to me than to Mac. "What's his name? Maxie's father, I mean... You told me when Georgie died, but I just can't remember,"

"Frisco," Dillon murmurs, eying me carefully. I remember now. His plane had been delayed the morning of Georgie's funeral. I would bet money that he never thought he'd be burying another daughter a little over a week later. "The police and paramedics will be here any second now. Why don't we get you up off the ground?"

"I don't want to leave her," I explain gently, gripping Maxie's lifeless hand in my own. I had never liked Maxie. She was loud, trashy, sickening, and whiny. She enabled my brother's drug addiction, had an affair with Lucky while he was married to Elizabeth, and then she had gotten pregnant with his baby. She lied and schemed. She did all the things that I did. But she felt no remorse, no guilt. She wanted Lucky no matter what, even if he didn't love her in return. But we were a lot alike. Maybe that's why I hated her so much. I saw myself in her eyes and it just disgusted me. "We were so alike,"

"You were nothing like Maxie," Dillon promises, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. I choke back a sob and smile sadly. He's wrong, but I appreciate the thought behind the quiet lie. I wince at the gravel and concrete biting into my knees. But I refuse to move. I tighten my grip on Maxie's hand and continue to stare at her lifeless, scared eyes.

"She broke up my brother's marriage because she wanted him. I did the same thing. We both got pregnant from affairs," I let out a humorless laugh. Dillon moves the hand he has on my hair to my good shoulder, squeezing it gently. Really it was no different. How could it be so wrong for Maxie to trap Lucky when that's exactly what I did to Dillon? I let out another broken sob, leaning forward to touch her forehead reverently with my left hand while keeping my grip on one of her hands with my right. I suddenly pray for a flash of hope that she has survived the accident. I never checked her pulse. I inhale sharply looking from Maxie to Dillon and then back to the blonde girl before me. "She's still warm..."

"She's gone, Lulu. Look at her eyes," Dillon reminds me as he closes her eyes with the tips of his fingers. A police cruiser pulls up next to us. It's Det. Rodriguez. Dillon stands, greeting the cop with his mouth set in a grim line. I, on the other hand refuse to look away from Maxie, to leave her all alone. Cruz kneels down beside me, checking for a pulse before shaking his head at the paramedics who have just arrived. Fresh tears fall down my cheeks. Dillon tries to pull me to my feet so that the paramedics can take away her body, but I hang on tightly to her hand. Cruz steps in, pulling Maxie's hand from mine. I sob brokenly, my legs giving out beneath my weight as Dillon pulls me to my feet. He holds me up, his arms around my waist, as I struggle to reach Maxie again. My bloody fingertips graze her arm as the paramedics zip up the black body bag and lift her onto a stretcher. I watch with blurry, unseeing eyes as they strap the bag down and load the stretcher into the ambulance.

"She was still warm," I repeat softly, my eyes never leaving the closed doors of the ambulance that holds Maxie Jones' body. Dillon tightens his grip around my waist and buries his face in my neck as we sink back down to the ground. I turn slowly in his arms, burying my face in his chest as I cry. Not just for Maxie, but for myself and my child. I cry for what I've done, for what I've lost. I sob for everyone who's died in my life, for those who've walked out on me, and for those who've faded away without a choice in the matter. I don't know how much later... Minutes or hours... The sky has faded to a smoky darkness, the sun setting behind the trees and against the water of the harbor in the distance. I pull back, wiping the excess tears from my now flushed cheeks. My eyes are red, sore, and swollen. My cheeks are blotchy to match. Cruz is still beside us and kneels down to my eye level. I can see his lips moving. I know he's talking to me, probably asking my questions about the accident that killed Maxie. I look from him to Dillon. They're both looking at me with worry in my eyes. But I can't hear them. I can't speak. I can only relive the deaths I've caused. Screaming. Bullets flying by. Metal crushing bone. Skull hitting pavement. Skin ripping apart. And my visions becomes a red haze. The blood on my hands stains the rest of my world and I can only sit there helplessly as everyone looks to me for answers.

---- I want to thank those who review. I'm still taking suggestions for the Lucky/Liz baby. So far the votes are leaning towards a girl. I also want to thank CharmedRox09. You're right. The reviews are nice, but writing this story makes me happy and that's all that matters. But I still love the reviews, lol. ----


	7. Take Hits And Pass It

I never really understood before how easy it is to slip away from reality, to pull away from everyone you know and love. But seeing Maxie's body lying in the middle of road, broken and shredded, has stalled my mind and caught my tongue so to speak. It's been four long, excruciating hours since they took her to the morgue. Dillon and Cruz got me back to Kelly's at some point, I'm not exactly sure when. The diner has been closed for at least an hour now, but we still don't move. Mike puts on another pot of coffee and random officers walk in and out of my family's establishment. Dillon sits in the chair next to me, his arm around my shoulder so that I can rest my head on his shoulder. Cruz sits across the table from us sipping a cup of coffee, but not uttering a word. I just stare straight ahead, not seeing the scene before me but the one we left in the street. Her body had been warm. I had been so sure that there was a way that she had survived. But I knew. I had stared into her eyes. She had died on impact. I blink looking up at Dillon with tearful eyes at my newest revelation. "She didn't even have time to scream,"

"Lulu? Hey... Remember me?" Cruz cuts off whatever Dillon intended to say. I turn my gaze to the man who has been my brother's partner on numerous cases since Jesse Beaudry's death numerous months ago. I nod as everything begins to fade back to the accident. Why does he always ask me if I know him, if I remember him. I'm traumatized, guilty even, but not stupid. Dillon rubs his hand up and down my arm, mindful of the bullet wound that is still slowly healing. His comforting touch helps me resist the urge to hide in a corner. Cruz sighs, noting my withdraw without words. He picks up his mug of black coffee and leans back in the old wooden chair he sits in. I note that the dusty sky has darkened to starless black. I want to ask how late it is, but find myself to form even the simplest of words. I feel Dillon press a kiss to my dark hair and lean into his embrace again. The door opens, but I don't have the strength to turn and look at the new arrival. I hear footsteps approaching our table. None of the other faceless cops have bothered to come up to us. They always signal Cruz over to them, respectful enough to not disturb the nearly catatonic girl I've become. "Commissioner,"

_Oh, now this is just freaking fantastic._ Mac Scorpio towers over our table, his eyes covered by black sunglasses. Sunglasses in the dead of night. He's obviously one of _those_ guys who refuses to show that they cry. They think it's a sign of weakness or something. My mind flashes to Dillon's passionate outburst when he was trying to talk me out of an abortion. He hadn't been afraid to cry in front of me then. Or when he held me after Georgie fell down the stairs. I grab a fistful of his shirt, turning my face away from Mac and burying it into Dillon's chest. He brings his right arm up off the table to wrap it around me, keeping his left carefully placed around my injured shoulder. His right hand comes up to cover my ear, keeping my face shielded against his warm body. Warm. Just like Maxie had been... Even after she was dead. I glance at the hand holding a grip on Dillon's shirt. He had tried to scrub the blood off of my hands and arms at some point after getting me into Kelly's, but there was still crimson stains on my pale skin. Dillon's voice soothes me as tears begin to fill my eyes again. "She's not talking, Mac. A few words here and there, but nothing of any relevance. Can I just take her home and bring her in tomorrow?"

"Maxie is dead, Dillon. I just buried Georgie and now I have to bury her big sister too. I want to know what Lulu has locked away in her head," Mac demands, his voice breaking slightly. He clears his throat, playing it off in that macho way that some guys do. Dillon tightens his grip on my frail body and I realize that I'm shaking again. My stomach churns in protest to the powerful smell of death that seemed to have followed us in from the street. Mac lowers himself into the chair next to Cruz and sighs. "Frisco--... Her _father_ is on a plane here as we speak. He deserves to have some answers,"

"Lulu didn't murder Georgie or Maxie," I hear Dillon assures the police commissioner with a quiet conviction in his voice. I flinch at the sound of brakes squealing outside the diner as someone stops at the stoplight down the street. Metal crushing bone. Skull hitting concrete. Flesh ripping. Bullets flying. One painful scream. I whimper as I squeeze my eyes shut. The sounds only intensify as bile begins to climb up my throat. I can barely hear Mac sigh again over the noises in my head. "She's not in any condition to deal with an interrogation,"

"It was an accident, Dillon. We know that. Hit and run. But Lulu is the only witness that we've got. She was there. She has to know something," Mac's words play over in my mind, quieting the noises for a few blissful seconds. _Only witness._ Yeah. I know that. Because Maxie's dead. Of course, if Maxie were alive we wouldn't be going through any of this. The girl always wanted attention and now she had it all. Because she was dead. I pull back from Dillon and place my hands in my lap, staring down at them for a few silent minutes.

"I was trying to avoid Dillon," I whisper, looking up for the briefest of seconds to meet Mac's imploring gaze. I let my eyes drop back down to my hands, studying the light blood stains that dot across the pale skin. I can hear Cruz stirring a fresh cup of coffee, the metal spoon clacking against the cream colored mug. Dillon taps his fingers against the side of his chair, a tactic to keep himself under control when he's feeling restless. Mac takes off the sunglasses, I can hear them hitting the table gently as he sets them down. He sighs again, a mournful sound. But I keep my eyes on my hands. "Maxie came in here. I was going to leave, but she started in right away on how I'm responsible for Georgie's death. I knew that Dillon would find me here--... I actually saw him out in the courtyard. That's when I ran out the back. I was planning on taking the alley to Elm street till I hit the pier. I'd figure something else out from there. I guess Maxie followed me. She kept yelling that Georgie deserves justice, that it was my fault. _'So sick of Lulu'._ That's what she said,"

"I apologize," Mac murmurs as he accepts a cup of coffee from Mike. Dillon places a hand on my back, not saying anything as he offers the smallest amount of comfort.

"I ran across the street. I just wanted to get out of there before I got caught. There was a sedan. I remember the car because it nearly hit me when I ran into the road. I guess Maxie was so close behind me that there was no way for the car to swerve or for her to get out of the way," I force my mind to go back to that moment. I can hear the sounds and even feel the concrete digging into my knees. Dillon moves his hand up from the small of my back to the base of my neck, squeezing gently to give me moral support. "Silver. The sedan was silver,"

"Did you see who was driving the car?" Mac asks, his voice holding a tinge of hope. I look up as the moments play over in my mind in slow motion like an old movie. I nod, realizing that I did see the driver. I close my eyes, forcing myself to focus on every detail. My eyes open and I meet Dillon's gaze instead of Mac's.

"Colleen," I whisper, shock taking ahold of me. The woman who killed Maxie is the woman that my oldest brother entrusts his son's life to on a daily basis. This is the woman who cares for my nephew on every level. My stomach begins to churn all over again. Mac, Cruz, and Dillon all look at me expectantly and I find myself unable to do anything but move my stare down to my hands again. Mac nods, whispering something to Cruz that I don't bother to remember. Dillon sighs, pulling me into his arms again. My body remains stiff as everything plays over in my head. One scene after another. Slow motion. The smells, the feelings, the tastes, and the sounds all hit me. I close my eyes, praying for it all to stop as the world continues on like normal around me.

------

I lay motionless in my bed as the door to my room opens and shuts quietly. I know without looking or asking that it's Dillon. I feel the edge of the bed sink as he sits behind me. I feel his fingers touching my hair gently, but I can't force myself to make any acknowledgment to his presence. I haven't said a word, not from Dillon's lack of trying, since identifying Colleen as the driver. Mac informed us that I would have to pick her out of a lineup at the PCPD in the morning and then sent Cruz to bring us back to the mansion. Both the detective and Dillon tried desperately to make small talk with me during the drive, but I could only stare wordlessly at my hands. Emily was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, only ten feet from where Georgie's body had landed, when we got in the door. She took over my care from there, taking me upstairs and placing me in a hot bath. She washed my hair and scrubbed the blood from my hands. She laid out clothes for me and waited in my room for me to dress. She then brushed out my hair with slow, reassuring movements. Tracy brought up a tray of food from the kitchen a little while later, but I had no appetite. Emily helped me into my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, and left me to sleep. But sleep refuses to come. Dillon's body is stretched out behind mine. He has one arm draped over my waist and the other up by my head. "It's going to be okay, Lulu. We'll get through all of this,"

"The baby," I whisper, my voice breaking on the single word. _Baby_. My brother's child. My niece or nephew. Dillon sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to my exposed neck. I turn over onto my back, staring up at him with wide eyes. His hand spans across my stomach as he towers above me. The image of Georgie's lifeless body and the one of Elizabeth's shaking form sprawled on the ground now mixes with the one I hold of Maxie's torn and battered corpse. But it all fades into the background, not disappearing completely, as I gaze up at Dillon. I want him to tell me the impossible. I want to hear that my brother's baby has a chance. But I know that there's no way for that to be true. We'll be bringing his baby with Elizabeth into the world soon, but Maxie's little boy or girl will never be born. I lick my lips, tears filling my eyes. My bottom lip quivers as I fight to stop the movie in my head from starting over again.

"Maxie wasn't pregnant. She lied," Dillon informs me softly, his eyes never leaving mine. I gasp, throwing my arms around his neck despite the pain in my shoulder. The tears in my eyes fall down my cheeks, this time out of gratitude. My brother was never going to have a baby with Maxie. And I know that he'll be relieved, even if Maxie's lie hurts a little, that his child wasn't murdered in that accident. I find myself relieved to know that I didn't kill someone of my own blood... Even if I was responsible for Maxie's accident. I remember that I've caused my brother to lose his wife. But at least I haven't taken anything more from him. At least his baby will be okay. Dillon brushes the dark hair out of my eyes, bringing me back to the present moment. "You scared me tonight. I almost thought that--..."

"That I was doing what my mother did? That I was going to lock myself away in my own mind?" I ask, my voice soft and for once it holds no accusation. How can I be angry at him for fearing the same thing as me? I sigh, turning my head away from his probing gaze. He lifts his one hand to my temple so that he can caress my hair softly. He moves away, but I don't bother to look. I don't think I want to know why. I hear him fumbling around, never actually leaving the bed. A few seconds later my clock radio clicks on and he surfs through until he lands on an oldies station. _'Lean On Me' By Bill Withers_ filters through the speakers, crackling in the old age of the track. Dillon chuckles softly, settling back on the bed beside me.

"How fitting is that?" He asks in a voice full of amusement. I nod, signifying that the meaning of it all wasn't lost on me despite my current instability. The song ends nearly as soon as it started and I realize that we turned it on during the last chorus. _'Build Me Up Buttercup' by The Temptations_ begins almost immediately and I giggle. I vaguely remember my dad playing it when I was a little girl, napping on the rug beside our dog Foster. "Fond memories?"

"My dad," I murmur, a smile playing on my pink lips as we listen in silence to the old song. _"Why do you build me up, Buttercup baby, just to let me down?" _I lay my cheek against the warm feather pillow as the song fades into _'Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?' by The Shirelles._ Another memory sweeps over me. Lucky told me about the L&L diner our parents owned years ago when they lived on the run. My father kept an old jukebox and would turn this song on to dance with my mother. Lucky even confided that him and Elizabeth shared quite a few dances over the same sweet oldie. I had silently vowed then, at the clueless age of twelve, that I would someday dance to this song with my own soulmate. I glance up at Dillon to find him staring down at me with a bemused grin. "This song is a family tradition,"

"Oh really?" Dillon rests his elbow beside my head, propping his head up on his palm so he can still gaze down at me in comfort. I nod as I remember my foolish fantasy of a moonlit room with nothing but this song playing in the background. I had truly believed that it would happen and had hung onto the dream for many years. Until I realized that my mom was gone, my dad would never be around, and that true love didn't mean that it would last. It dawns on me that I haven't listened to this song in years, saddened by the sense of doom I felt it brought. _'I Can See Clearly Now' by Otis Redding_ is playing before I even realize that the other song had ended. "_I think I can make it now the pain is gone," _And I'm sure the man did. But the pain always returns. If it's not one thing then it's just another. "You're one of those girls addicted to old tunes, aren't you?"

"I'm Luke Spencer's daughter," I remind him jokingly. But it's true. I've always been in love with oldies. Songs from way before my time seem to make more sense to me then half the stuff playing on the more "up to date" radio stations these days. I don't want to listen to songs about sex, drugs, betrayals, suicide, gangs, or murders that are written just to attract attention. I want something with emotion, with actual reasons for existing. Dillon taps his finger against my nose playfully and I giggle again. When in the hell did I start giggling? Well, if I wasn't sure before that something was messed up in my head... Giggling. I've never been one of those girls who flutters her eyelashes, twirls her hair, and giggles mindlessly. I hate those girls. It's wrong. I shouldn't judge. But I've never claimed to be a saint. Far from it actually. _'Cruising Together' by Smokey Robinson_ starts to play and I can't help but close my eyes, a vibrant smile forming slowly. "Now this is something my dad would play over and over again. I remember laying in my bed at night and listening to it play downstairs on the old vinyl player we had. I crept downstairs one night and found him dancing in the kitchen with my mom. Just smiling and dancing. They weren't talking or worrying about anything. They were perfectly happy in those few peaceful minutes that this song played,"

"I think I have an old Smokey Robinson CD around here somewhere. I picked it up at this cute little music store in Albany when I was, I think, fourteen. I wonder where it ended up," Dillon seems to silently be searching for it in his head. I laugh, pulling myself out from under him slightly to dig under my mattress. I lean back, holding up the CD in question. "You stole it?"

"I rescued it," I correct him gently. The CD had been laying around his room for ages and Alice had accidentally picked it up with a stack of old magazines when she had been cleaning. I had managed to save the CD and had just never bothered to return it. Dillon hadn't appreciated the music anyway. He was a film buff. Directors had other people to put together the soundtracks. I yawn, trying to cover my mouth and stifle the sound. Dillon laughs, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek as he takes the CD and sets it on my nightstand beside the radio. He rolls onto his back, pulling the blankets up over our bodies. I rest my head on his shoulder as his arms wrap around my body. I feel him press another kiss to the top of my head, a small smile playing on my lips. I let my eyes flutter shut, the sounds in my head dulled to a soft murmur for once. I wish they would go away completely, but take comfort in how they've at least quieted for now. Dillon tightens his grip on me and mumbles something akin to goodnight. I yawn again, curling myself into his warm embrace as a blissfully dreamless sleep envelopes my exhausted body.

------

"Number four," I assure the rookie cop that stands to my left. Colleen holds the paper card to her chest, a look of pure determination across her features. Apparently the woman has not only killed Maxie, but she was attempting to kidnap my nephew. I smirk, proud to protect someone for once instead of cost them their life. I walk out of the box where Mac had put me to do the lineup. Dillon is leaning against the wall when I walk out, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He straightens as soon as he spots me and I sigh as he pulls me into a tight hug. "That's it,"

"The statement," Dillon reminds me quietly. I nod, but don't withdraw from his embrace. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his fingers smoothing down my chestnut hair. I think he's finally growing used to the darkened tresses. The cop from before approaches us and motions for us to follow him so that I can sign a sworn statement. I've just finished signing my name on the dotted line when Cruz brings Colleen through the room on his way to her cell.

"Something's going to go down," I warn as I notice that Emily and Nikolas have just arrived. The hatred on their faces makes my skin prickle with uneasiness. Emily looks ready to attack Spencer's former nanny and I watch as Nikolas wraps an arm around her waist to keep her restrained. A woman, someone I've never seen before, comes out of the interrogation room with Spencer. I step in front of her, my instincts kicking in automatically. "Who are you and what are you doing with my nephew?"

"Lulu, it's okay. This is Mrs. Brights from social services. She's just returning Spencer into my custody," Nikolas assures me as he lifts his infant son into his arms. Emily instantly begins to fuss over the baby, making sure that Colleen didn't harm him in at all. They both seem to sigh with relief as Spencer giggles and babbles as if it's only been a typical day. I feel a hand on wrap around my waist and for the briefest of moments I think it's Dillon. Everything around me seems to slow down as Emily screams, Nikolas shields Spencer, and Dillon steps towards me in alarm. The arm around my waist holds me tightly and I feel the cold metal of a gun pressed to my temple. Colleen. I blink and by then Lucky, Mac, & Cruz have guns trained on me. No. Not on me. They're aiming for Colleen. She's edging us across the room. Dillon reaches for me, but Emily pulls him back quickly. I feel tear fall down my cheeks and let my eyes close. I pray for it to all be over. She has nothing left to lose. Killing me will make no difference to her. My heart hammers in my chest and my lung burn as I realize that I'm going to die. I open my mouth to say something, _anything_, but no sound comes out. I gasp for breath after painful breath, my shoulder throbbing under Colleen's tight grip. I hear a gun fire and then my body hits the hard linoleum floor. People scramble all around me, but I don't move. I keep my hands over my ears and let myself remain huddled on the floor. I feel Dillon pull me into his arms and I finally let myself sob uncontrollably into his lap as he strokes my hair. I flinch when Nikolas, Dillon, and Lucky try to lift me from the floor. A painful scream leaves my lips and I curl myself into an even tighter ball. Nikolas places a hand on my back, leaning forward and speaking softly. "You're okay, Lulu. It's just me. It's Nikolas... And Dillon's here. So is Lucky,"

"Come on Les," Dillon whispers, using a nickname for me that no one else ever has. He came up with it by using my first name, Lesley. Everyone else has always just shortened Lulu into 'Lu'. I glance up at him, my vision blurry from my tears. His jean-clad thighs are soaked as well as my cheeks. I let him pull me up enough to wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his neck. Somehow my brothers pull us to our feet without me ever breaking my hold on Dillon. "You're okay now. Everything's going to be just fine,"

"It's not okay. It's never going to be okay," I mumble through my tears as I continue to sob into his shoulder. I realize that this is just another death that I'm responsible for. Georgie, Elizabeth, Maxie, and now Colleen. Whether I liked them or not... Whether they were _innocent_ or not... It was my fault. "I'm the one who told the police that it was her. I'm the one who stood between her and freedom. If I had just kept my mouth shut... If I had just stepped aside for once..."

"Maxie's killer would have gone free and we might have never found Spencer," Dillon reminds me gently, his lips against my ear. I nod, thankful for his reassurance. Even though I know I'm guilty. Colleen was just another name on an always growing list of my unintentional victims. I feel my brothers each place a hand on my back. I can hear Emily whispering softly to Spencer, reassuring the little boy during a traumatic experience. Dillon presses another kiss to my hair.

_Poor Pitiful Lulu. So Sick Of Lulu..._ The words echo over and over again in my head. A scream. A shaking body. Steel crushing bone. Skull hitting pavement. Skin ripping ever so slowly. Cold metal pressed to my temple. A gun cocking against my head. My body begins to shake as the room spins. My vision blurs and I dig my fingers into Dillon's shoulders as I try to hold myself upright. His arms loop around my waist as my knees give out. And it's then, as Dillon and I slide to the floor and the world begins to fade away, that I realize one thing. This is just the beginning. And I just might not survive it all.


	8. Villans Dies & Heroes Live Forever

I roll over on my bed, pulling the blankets up over my head. I can hear Lainey Winters, the psychologist that Edward and Tracy hired, sigh as she gets up from the chair she'd been sitting in. It's been three weeks, six therapy sessions, since the scene at the PCPD that cost Colleen McHenry her life. My shoulder is nearly completely healed by now and I almost wish it wasn't. The pain was a decent distraction. I wait for Lainey to leave the room, but she doesn't. I don't move. I've said all that I have to say. We've relived all four recent tragedies, each without me admitting my guilt. She wouldn't understand. If anything, she would send me off to Shadybrook. And I refuse to become my mother. The door opens and I wait with baited breath for her to leave. I hear Dillon enter instead. "How's she doing?"

"We went over the shooting at the police department again. She gave me vivid details and then she shut down like she always does. It's not the emotional, or even physical, trauma of these experiences that's affecting her. I just can't figure it out," Lainey snaps her folders shut and I can hear her tucking them into the black bag she carries. I close my eyes and pray for the sleep I desperately need. I just want to let everything fade away for an hour or two. Dillon sits on the bed behind me and pulls the covers back enough to slip his arm under my head, taking my hand in his.. He knows me well enough to kow that I'm not actually sleeping. I don't move or even bother to open my eyes. I lace my fingers with his and rest my head on our joined hands. I listen as Lainey slips her arms in her long black coat. "Lulu has been handling everything better than most people could... I'll be back on Monday for another session,"

"Would you happen to be available at the hospital later today?" I hear Dillon ask. I know why he's worried. I just refuse to acknowledge it, even in my mind. Lainey makes a sound of agreement and pulls something from her pocket, handing it to Dillon. I listen to the door close before rolling over to face Dillon, letting our hands seperate for a second before reaching for my latest lifeline. He smiles proudly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You're doing so well,"

"I'm fine," I assure him softly. It's a lie. Everyone knows it is. That's why Lainey comes twice a week. We're waiting for the phone call. It should come any minute now. I look up at Dillon, meeting his eyes with suspicion. We're _not_ waiting, I realize. I feel tears burn my eyes as I drag myself out of bed. Dillon remains where he is, watching me with cautious eyes. I pick up my purse with shaky hands, slipping my feet into my black sneakers. There's no use delaying the inevitable. I want to ask how long it's been... How much time have we wasted? Dillon sighs, getting to his feet and lacing his fingers with mine. I exhale softly as my hand shakes within his. The time in the car is a blur. It doesn't take more than ten minutes. The elevator doors slide open and we step out. Everyone moves around us as I remain frozen. My eyes meet Nikolas'. He hands Spencer to Emily as he stands. I'm too late. "When?"

"Just a few minutes ago. She bled out in surgery," Nikolas scrubs his palm over his face, erasing the evidence of his tears. I feel Dillon's arms wrap around my waist as tears start falling down my cheeks. My brother looks like he wants to say more, but can't find the words. The baby. Dread washes through my veins. Any other words are cut off by Cameron.

"Aunt Lulu!" My four year old nephew, dark curls and brown eyes, runs down the hallway towards me. I catch him in my arms, holding him tightly against my body. He giggles, pulling back to hold my face between his hands. "I have a sister!"

I let out a sigh of relief as a tearful Audrey approaches us. Cam rests his head against my shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut as a soft smile spreads across his face. My heart breaks for the little boy. He probably doesn't realize that his mommy is never going to come home. I know that's how I felt when my mom faded away. And I was older than him. Dillon squeezes my shoulder gently as he leans in to whisper something in Cameron's ear. My nephew giggles, snuggling his face into my neck. Dillon places his free hand on Cameron's back as he kisses my cheek. I revel in his comfort and strength. This could've been us if I had kept the baby, I realize. His arm around me, our son or daughter snuggled against my chest. I fight against another wave of loss, focusing on the current tragedy I have to live through. "How's the baby? Lucky?"

"They're okay. Your brother is with her now. She's beautiful," Audrey smiles sadly and reaches to take Cameron. I shake my head, a silent assurance. Nikolas tilts his head to signal Emily. She gets up and makes her way over to us slowly, rocking Spencer in her arms. Cameron sighs against my neck and I close my eyes against the pain. I have to focus on something else... _Anything _else. I can't let myself embrace the emotions churning within me. Dillon moves his hand from my shoulder to the back of my neck, keeping his soft touch on Cameron. "Jenna Jaime Spencer..."

"I'm totally calling her J.J. for short," Emily lets out a small laugh at the name. I smirk and realize that my brother has gone completely original with the name. There's no one in town with either of those names. Dillon's hand is moving again. He places it on the small of my back and begins to lead me down the hallway. I glance over my shoulder at Audrey when I realize that I still hold Cameron in my arms. He sighs and I realize he's fallen asleep. I hear Emily and Nikolas talking in hushed tones with Elizabeth's grandmother, but I can't pick out the actual words. I finally realize where we're heading when the nursery comes into view. Lucky is sitting in a rocking chair in the corner, a tiny pink bundle in his arms.

"Here... Give me Cameron," Dillon whispers, mindful not to rouse the little boy as he takes him from my arms. I smile gratefully, my eyes taking in every detail of Dillon holding a kid in his arms. I turn and return my gaze to my brother. There are tears streaking his cheeks as he talks to his newborn daughter. Jenna. I have a niece and her name is Jenna. And she's without a mother. I give Dillon a nervous glance over my shoulder as I walk through the doors. A nurse hands me a yellow paper gown to put over my clothes. Lucky looks up and meets my gaze. I realize a second later that Dillon and Cameron are right behind him. I sigh with relief. He didn't leave me. He's not making me do this alone. "Let's go meet your niece,"

"Oh, Lucky," I gasp, taking in the tiny little girl. She has a tuft of dark hair on her head, just like her mother. She glances up at me with wide eyes that match my brother's. She makes a soft sucking sound as she pulls her small fist up to her mouth. Lucky adjusts her pink cap without thinking as he cradles his daughter to his chest. Dillon shifts Cameron in his arms and rests his chin on my shoulder, smiling softly down at the baby. My stomach churns furiously. My lungs burn as my throat constricts. I place a hand to my chest. The only way I could possibly describe the pain there is something crushing me. Guilt? Loss? I don't know. The room spins, the baby becoming nothing more than a pink blur. My brother's lips are moving. I feel Dillon shift away from me. My heart pounds and I feel a slick sweat drench my skin. I take a step. Where am I going? I falter, my body crashing into a metal tray that's to my left. I feel an arm slip around my waist. It's Dillon. He's clutching me to his side, keeping a gentle and firm grip on Cameron's sleeping body as well. I right myself, pushing his hands away. _So sick of Lulu._ Am I feeling bad over Maxie's baby? No. Maxie wasn't pregnant. She _lied_. She wanted to trap my brother. What does it matter? She's dead. Georgie's dead. Maxie's dead. Elizabeth is dead. They're all dead... Gone. Soon to fade away into a distant, painful memory.

"Les," Dillon's voice is nothing more than a concerned whisper, his breath warm against my ear. I bite back my tears. I'm sick of crying. I blindly reach for his hands, gripping it as if my life depends on it. Hell, I don't know anymore. Maybe my life _does_ depend on Dillon's strength. I wouldn't be surprised. Audrey appears beside Dillon, lifting Cameron into her arms. She gives me an alarmed, concerned look. Who told her? What does she care? A tall man in hospital scrubs with curly light brown hair skids into the nursery, his gaze landing directly on Lucky. It's Steven, Liz's big brother, I realize a heartbeat later. He gives Audrey a kiss on the cheek and Cameron one on the top of his head. His eyes never leave my brother and my niece. I turn to Dillon, everything inside of me silently begs him to take me far away from here. My hands clench into fists against his chest, my nails biting into his skin. I can't take it anymore. I have to get away from the mixture of overwhelming loss and deep joy. A death and a birth all in one day, all in one family. It's too much. Dillon pulls me to his chest, nodding solemnly. He understands.

------

I gaze out over the wooden railing at the Quartermaine lake. The sun glistens off the murky water and reflects back into my eyes. Dillon is just a few feet behind me, but he knows that words will mean nothing to me right now. My light blue jacket slips off my shoulders and hits the ground without a conscious thought. My shoes bang against the wood as I slip my feet out of them. I'm pulling my hair back into a ponytail before I even realize I've moved a muscle. I pull myself up so that I'm standing on the rail. I hear Dillon move swiftly behind me. I glance down, laughing as the window beats against my face. My skin prickles under the chilly air. I let myself fall forward into the water. My lungs burn as my body stiffens beneath the freezing depths. I let myself sink down until my feet touch the muddy bottom of the lake. I tip my head back and look up. I can barely make out the sun against the water. My body aches in protest to the cold temperature. I let my eyes close as everything inside of me becomes numb. I feel someone grab my wrists, pulling me up towards the surface. I kick against the force that's tugging on my body. Exhaustion slows me down. Lack of oxygen makes me dizzy. I choke on the air my body struggles to pull into my stinging lungs as my head breaks through the surface. My eyes seek out Dillon's as panic floods my veins. He's dry and standing at the edge of the lake, reaching for me. If he's there then who saved me? Dillon manages to pull me out, wrapping his arms around me right away. My teeth chatter as my body shakes. I look to my left, blinking away the water that's dripping down my pale face. It's Brooke Lynn. I recognize her from the pictures strewn throughout the mansion and the few times we passed each other in town. She glares at me in annoyance. "You're kind of ridiculous,"

"And you're kind of a bitch," I point out bitterly as I bury my self in Dillon's warm embrace. Brooke gets to her feet, staring at her drenched clothes with fury in her eyes. She looks down at her bare middle finger. She curses under her breath. Dillon tightens his hold on me. My anger ebbs away slowly as tears fill my eyes. "She died because of me,"

"Lulu, you're shaking. That water was freezing," Dillon whispers as he slips his arms from his jacket. He pulls it around my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I choke back a sob. He doesn't deny my guilt. I pull my knees to my chest, resting my chin there as I shiver uncontrollably.

"I don't care, Dillon," I murmur, my eyes staring unseeingly at the water I had just been submerged in. Air puffs in and out of my blue lips. My mind flashes back to a Robert DeNiro movie that I had been obsessed with when I was sixteen called _'Mad Dog and Glory'_. I shudder at the random thought. Where in the hell did that come from? My heart pounds as I close my eyes. I let myself rest in Dillon's arms. "Nothing could possibly be colder than how I feel inside right now,"

"Drama drama drama," Brooke mutters under her breath as she scans the rocky shoreline for her missing ring. Dillon makes a warning sound in the back of his throat. "What? I'm sorry, but I don't appreciate my welcome home present being a trip into freezing water to save your little princess,"

"She's having a rough time, Lynn. Elizabeth died today," Dillon whispers. As if I can't hear him. I'm closer to him than Brooke. But I don't care. I snuggle closer to his body as a lone tear slips down my damp cheek. I almost want to correct him. Elizabeth died weeks ago outside of that church. But, technically, he's right. Elizabeth's heart didn't stop beating until today in that operating room. Brooke remains silent before sitting on the ground beside us.

"Lulu, right?" I nod slowly, not bothering to open my eyes or really acknowledge Brooke. It takes too much energy that I just don't have right now. "You were there when Georgie and Maxie... And now your sister-in law... No wonder you felt like a swim,"

"You're not helping," Dillon reminds his niece quietly. Brooke scoffs and I admire her sense of self. I wish I could be that confident. But Dillon would leave me in a New York minute if I acted with half of Brooke's attitude. Dillon presses another kiss to my soaking hair as the world fades away into nothing but black ice surrounding me from the inside out.


	9. Tragic Endings Get Remembered

---- It's been such a fun ride. I'm blessed and thrilled that I got to share it with you guys. Originally I planned on doing more, but this story was emotionally exhausting.

I put a lot into it and my life has just gotten a bit more complicated recently so I don't have the energy to tap into Lulu's twisted emotions.

I hope that you guys aren't angry or disappointed in my decision to end the story here.

My love for Dillon and Lulu grows with each scene we're lucky enough to get on our screens.

They're one of the only reasons I watch anymore. The characters didn't influence my choices.

But, on a happy note, I am going to start working on another DiLu story called "Infidelity".

It is completely A.U. and will be posted in the somewhat near future.

I just want to thank you all again. You're constant support and devotion for this story have made a huge difference in this story. I wish you all the best in the world. ----

**Three Months Later: **

The scene at the Quartermaine's lake was only the first attempt. Dillon and Brooke managed to keep quiet about that one, but kept me under their constant supervision after that. A week later I managed to escape Brooke when she was on "Lulu" patrol during Dillon's one business class. I ran until I reached the docks and ended up slipping into the water. That time was an accident... I just didn't do anything to try and save myself. What was the point? Fate was obviously telling me something. Lorenzo Alcazar jumped in after me, pulling me to safety. He managed to lift me up onto the pier, but hit his head on his own way out. A blow to the left temple that rendered him unconscious. I tried, I swear to God that I did, but I couldn't get him out of the water on my own. Dillon showed up and got me out... And then he got Alcazar's body. The police deemed it another accident, one I just happened to be involved with yet again. No one else gave it another thought. I think Dillon actually believed me when I told him that I had slipped into the water instead of another suicide attempt. I tried a bottle of pills, that I found in Edward's medicine cabinet, and some vodka four days later. Emily found me on the bathroom floor and called 911. I had to get my stomach pumped and then Lainey had me committed to Rose Lawn. Apparently it's the same place that Carly spent some time in.

I was released no more than a month later. It's way too easy to lie to the doctors, to the people you care about. Once you start they just keep coming. And sooner or later everyone will believe you. I even managed to fool Carly, the master of it all. I, obviously needed to get more creative. Pills were too slow and the Quartermaine house was constantly crawling with people. Especially now that I had the entire family watching my every move instead of just Dillon and Brooke Lynn. I spent a few days, two or three I guess, brainstorming. Obviously, style was needed for a Spencer. And that's when I thought of the Bently. The car was Edward's favorite and it amused me to steal it... If for no other reason than to piss him off. I tried taping the windows and letting the car run. I read about it somewhere. Something about the fumes coming through the vents... Whatever you're supposed to do, I apparently didn't. Or I didn't get enough time. Brooke found me about two hours later. I managed to bribe her into silence... God knows how though.

The next time was also another accident. Carly demanded that I come to her house for a night, just to get away from the Quartermaine chaos. She and Jax went out to dinner while Leticia took the boys to a movie. I was surprised that she left me on my own, but then I remembered how I had her fooled. She thought I was okay. I lit a few candles and settled in for a night of pointless T.V. There was nothing I could do at Carly's and I just needed a way to block out the excruciating noise in my head. I got up to make more popcorn... Nothing more than that. I tripped over one of Morgan's toys and bumped the table. It rocked, obviously off balance. One of the candles tipped over and rolled onto a pile of Michael's school papers. A few seconds later and the house was up in smoke, literally. I heard a scream, one of pure pain. But there was always screaming in my head. How was I supposed to tell the difference? I made my way outside, collapsing into the grass. Leticia stood beside me, clutching Morgan and screaming Michael's name. It took me a few seconds to realize that the scream I had heard had been Carly's son. The paramedics took me to the hospital for smoke inhalation. It was a few days before I saw Carly. And, even then, it was in passing. I didn't know if she blamed me or not. I didn't want to find out.

Two months after my first suicide attempt at the lake I found out that Helena Cassadine murdered my mother. My mother had just been doing what she always did, staring at a wall in Shadybrook. But Helena slit her throat, true Cassadine style. My father was crazed with grief. I, of course, handled it the only way I could at the time. I blocked it out, pretended that my mother was still in her rocking chair and completely oblivious. Lucky and Nikolas managed to control him for a few weeks... I have no idea how. But then he got away from them. I followed him and Robert Scorpio to Spoon Island, where Nikolas lives. I hid in the bushes, clutching my cell phone to my chest, while my father confronted Helena. The old woman, insane in her own right, shot Robert point blank. Fear shot down my spine as I dialed 911. My father, as luck would have it, loudly made a speech about Helena, her gun, and her hideout on Spoon Island. Help was on the way. And then, minutes later, help was shot down in cold blood. I watched Mac Scorpio fall to the ground no more than a foot from his brother and ten feet from me. I let out a scream. I didn't mean to, I swear. The focus seemed to shift to me in slow motion. My father became scared, reckless. Helena knew an easy mark when she saw one. And I was way too easy. I had no weapon, no plan, and no prior knowledge of Helena's tactics.

I passed out as she pointed the gun on me. I woke up a few hours later at the hospital with Dillon at my bedside. I don't remember much more than him telling me that Helena shot my father and Mac, who hadn't died right away like I thought, had managed to turn his own gun on Helena. And then he bled out before paramedics found us. I struggled for days to remember anything else, but I had been out cold. Noah Drake, Patrick Drake, and Robin Scorpio began running test after test. They wanted to find out why I fainted. Other than the fear of witnessing a multiple homicide and nearly dying myself, of course. A few days later, and God knows how many tests, something came up on my MRI. I don't know or even understand all of the medical terms they muttered at me. But Robin started me on a drug regimen right away. Now, about two weeks later, nothing has changed. Surgery is my only option and the statistics aren't in my favor. That's why I've locked everyone but Dillon out of my hospital room. He has to promise me. "There's no other way,"

"Les... Noah Drake is a skilled surgeon. He's been doing this since before you were born," He's trying to reassure me, but he's having the opposite effect. Patrick was supposed to do my surgery. Patrick was the best. But Patrick broke his hand in a bar fight the previous night. So now his father was going to do it in his place. But his father, Noah, was old... And old people have shaky hands. A surgeon can't save my life with shaky hands. He might have been brilliant back in his day, but that's not enough to change my mind. No. Dillon has to promise.

"That's fine. Things could turn out perfectly. But, if they don't, I need to know I'm covered regardless. You're the person I trust the most, but you're not the only one I'll ask. I'll find someone, Dillon," I promise him forcefully. And it's true. I could probably con Sonny into having one of his men do it. They're into that kind of thing, aren't they? Hell, I could find numerous people in this town that are waiting for the chance. It would be a dream come true to some. Dillon is eying me with suspicion, but I can sense the reluctant surrender flitting through his mind. "It's only if the worst happens. Please, Dillon. I don't want to live my life like my mother did for the last four years. I don't want to die like Elizabeth either,"

"You're going to be fine," Dillon assures me. Well, really, he's assuring himself. His hands are shaking as he stuffs them into his jean pockets. I sigh and lean back against my pillows. It's too exhausting to fight with him and I just don't have the energy. I'll find someone else. I let my eyes fall shut and try to make a mental list. It would be the best if it was Dillon, for me at least. But I'm sure Brooke could be manipulated. And, if not her, I'll call Sonny. I did, after all, cause the death of his eldest son in that fire. "Les, you're going to be okay,"

"And I might not be. I could die on the table, Dillon, or I could become an empty shell that's being kept alive by machines," I snap, opening my eyes to glare at him. He takes my hand in his and I decide to just let him hold on to his hope. As long as he promises. "Dillon, you have to do this for me,"

"I don't know... I don't think I can do that," Dillon inhales sharply, lifting our linked hands to his lips. The door to my room opens and I stare into the sympathetic eyes of Epiphany Johnson, my favorite nurse at the hospital. It's time for the surgery. I glance back at Dillon as Epiphany unhooks my monitors and prepares the gurney to move me to the O.R. I silently plead with Dillon to promise. I can't do this without knowing it's all taken care of. Epiphany is wheeling me out of the room when I finally hear his voice. "I'll do it. Just.. Please. I love you,"

------...------

An accident. Just a tiny slip. The words rolled over and over inside of Dillon Quartermaine's head as he stared at the nearly lifeless body of Lulu. A white bandage was wrapped around her head, covering the ugly incision that meant nothing. The initial problem was fixed... But Lulu would never open her eyes, never take a breath on her own. Her heart wouldn't ever beat without a machine doing it for her. _Dillon, you have to do this for me._ And he had agreed. God knows why. But he had told her that he would do it. And then he had told her that he loved her. He had spent countless hours pacing the length of her room, waiting for word that she had managed through the surgery with flying colors. She deserved a break, a chance to see that life didn't always work against her. But Noah had slipped. He had _nicked_ the wrong place and ended Lulu's life as she knew it. A machine beeped, as it did every few minutes regularly. Dillon's eyes were drawn to the electrical socket where it was all plugged in. _Please, Dillon. I don't want to live my life like my mother did for the last four years._

And, stupidly, he had promised her. Because he loved her. _You can't save Lulu from Lulu._ That had been true on Halloween, and for the months after. But now he could. He could end it all and truly save his Lulu from herself. The machine beeped again. Her chest rose and fell steadily. All because of the machines she had feared so desperately. A loud, consistent beeping echoed through the room seconds before a swarm of nurses, Robin, and Noah filled the room. Robin grabbed the paddles off the crash cart. Dillon caught words like: _Code blue. Clear. Charge. Call it._ He blinked and the machines were off. The clock had jumped ahead thirty minutes. Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he reached out to touch Lulu's cold hand. Her chest no long moved. Her heart didn't beat beneath his ear when he laid his head against her chest. All was silent. Lulu was gone. _His_ Lulu was dead. And he hadn't kept his promise. He hadn't been able to do it. He had failed her, just like he had always done. But it didn't matter. Because she was never going to come back. He would never hold her again after they found him and pried her lifeless body from his arms. Because, in the end, none of her attempts, accidents, or misfortunes had mattered. She had died from an imperfection.

---- As you can see by the chapter title "Tragic Endings Get Remembered", I meant to end this sadly. I hope you guys aren't too mad at me.

You guys have been so amazing and I apologize for it being so short.

I really hope you guys enjoyed this.

You rock! ----


	10. Don't Want To Be Something You Forget

**_Six Years Later:_**

It's been six long, hard, and emotion years since that day at the boathouse when I tried to take my own life. I didn't even realize, at the time, that my intentions were to commit suicide. Dillon woke up that day, opened his eyes to my inner torment. My sessions with Lainey remained consistent and so did Dillon's love. I never thought, after the hell we'd been through that previous summer, that he would love me. But he held me up when my own legs couldn't, dried the tears I couldn't bother to wipe away, and slowly fixed things that had been broken long before the abortion. Brooke Lynn, his neice and the one to start the entire healing process, has become my best friend. She convinced me that I had made the right choice for my baby. She held my hand when I confronted my family on my abandonment issues. And, finally, her and Dillon helped me prove my mom's innocence. Brooke moved home, back to Port Charles. She and I got an apartment together while we both attended PCU and we, along with Dillon, finally graduated. My thoughts are broken when the door to my bedroom opens. I smile up at Dillon. "Just the man I was thinking about,"

"I'm hoping those were good thoughts," He muses as he leans down to press a kiss to my lips. My smile grows as we pull back. Two years ago, four months after my graduation, Dillon proposed. Neither of us felt the need for a long engagement, especially after Tracy gave us her gleeful blessing. Brooke was my maid of honor while Ned was, of course, Dillon's best man. We had Cameron as our ring-bearer and little J.J. as my flower girl. My father gave me away with tears in his eyes. My brothers and all of the Quartermaines were in attendence. It was an affair to remember. "You're doing it again,"

"I can't help it. I'm a pensive girl," I remind him playfully, drawn from my plesant memories. My life started out rough. I spent my entire childhood and the very beginning of my adult life as a basket case. But Dillon, my husband and my savior, made the last six years worth all of the pain. And I have faith that he'll make the rest of my life just as beautiful.

"Yes," Dillon agrees softly, leaning down to kiss me again. I laugh, throwing my arms around his neck as he leans us back onto the bed. The mattress sinks beneath our weight. Dillon's lips move to my neck and I let out a gentle moan. A soft cry comes over the monitor on our nightstand. Dillon groans, rolling onto his back beside my body. I pat his chest with a gentle hand and smile. He leans over to kiss my cheek softly as I move to get up. "Don't forget, Les, you're my pensive girl,"

"Always," I promise as I get off of the bed and make my way down the hall. I place a hand over my stomach as I turn into the blue "ocean" room that serves as our son's nursery. Jackson was a surprise, to say the least. I was in my final year of college and Dillon, who had been a year ahead of me, had already graduated with Brooke when we found out that I was pregnant. I had just turned twenty-one and we had all gone out for drinks. Dillon and I had a few too many and slipped up. Nine months later we got our first glance of parenthood. We both agreed that we'll never forget the baby we shared, but that the decision was the right one. Jack giggles up at me as I brush a strand of his blonde hair from his eyes.

_"We're not naming our son Lucas Lorenzo. It's just not happening," Dillon declared as he tossed the baby name book onto the floor beside my bed. I glared at him bitterly, placing my hands over my rounded stomach. My pinks lips formed a pretty pout as I reclined against a pile of pillows Dillon had stacked behind me. Brooke, who was sititng in the lounge chair in the corner, couldn't help but laugh. "There's Luke, Lucky, and Lucas already in existance. There's no other way to spin it and it would just be too confusing,"_

_"It's tradition in my family, Dillon. It's a strong name. It's a **Spencer** name," I argued, getting to my feet with some difficulty. It wasn't easy, but I had to pace. I was too annoyed to do much else. Brooke let out another laugh, clamping her hand over her mouth to try and stifle the sound._

_"His last name isn't even going to be Spencer," Dillon reminded me teasingly. Dillon hadn't proposed yet, but the thought of being his wife made the breath catch in my throat. Brooke was the only one who seemed to notice and she only smirked. "My son is going to be a Quartermaine, my dear. Make no mistake,"_

_"Blah blah blah. Edward is already beside himself about the "next Quartermaine heir". It's sickening," Brooke muttered as she scooped up the name book. She flipped through the marked pages, skimming the words with an aquired skill. "Jackson. Name the little thumb-sucker Jackson Lorenzo. The name is cool with a touch of Spencer,"_

_"I'm okay with it. Les, you pick. Jackson Lucas or Jackson Lorenzo?" Dillon turned to me, reaching out and grabbing my wrist so he could tug him down next to him on the bed. We had highlighted Jackson, on the likely chance that I would be unable to convince Dillon to name our son after my father, cousin, and brother. Brooke had warned me. I was just too stubborn for my own good._

_"Jackson Lucas," I decided, pressing a hand to my stomach and a kiss to Dillon's cheek. And, there admist all the planning and bickering, we named our son and truly started our family._

Dillon waited a little while after Jackson's birth to propose. It was his way of easing my fear that he was just in it for his baby. After all, that had been his offer the first time I got pregnant. But he loved me this time around. He was marrying me out of love and devotion, not obligation. The wedding had been a beautiful ceremony in Lila's rose gardens. The same spot my father and mother illegally remarried. And now, two years later, we were awaiting the birth of our second baby. The ultrasound says that it's a girl. Dillon wants to name her Laura, but we agreed on Lauren Alexandra. I want to follow in my brother's footsteps and be original while I still honor my mother. I just think of Lauren as a branch of Laura. The logic works for me. I lift Jackson from his crib and make my way back down the hall to the bedroom. I set Jackson down and watch him run to his father, scrambling his way up onto the bed. Dillon laughs and tickles our son while I watch from the doorway. I glance over my shoulder at the sound of footsteps and return Brooke's bright smile. She has a key and lets herself in frequently. She wraps an arm around my shoulder as we watch my husband and my son. I lean my head down against her shoulder. "I never thought I would have this... I never thought things could be right,"

And that's the truth. No more screaming or horrorfying sounds of death echo in my head. Georgie, Maxie, and Elizabeth died from terrible accidents beyond my control. And I, Lulu Spencer-Quartermaine, have survived everything that I thought would break me. It's okay to be an imperfection.


End file.
